


Connections

by Lyl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, NCIS
Genre: Family, Gen, TTH100, willow in DC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 25,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow goes looking to reconnect with her uncle, and finds a whole new family in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Making an Impression

**Author's Note:**

> This is and entire universe built around my tth100 table found [here](http://lyl-devil.livejournal.com/7292.html).
> 
> EDIT: So I re-watched Hiatus(I&II) and discovered gapping holes in the timeline and events, so I re-wrote part of this to better reflect canon. Nothing of significant has changed, the main thing being that the memorial service was after Gibbs woke up from his coma and came home (almost a month after the deaths) and that Willow was eight at the time - the same age as Gibbs' daughter, Kelly.

Willow shifted from foot to foot in front of a perfectly innocuous door, hesitant to announce her presence. She wondered if he'd recognize her, even after so long. Almost fifteen years had passed since they'd seen each other, but Willow knew she'd recognize him anywhere.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not someone you easily forgot, despite the herculean effort her family had put into the task.

Willow remembered the last time she'd seen him, the man who'd married her mother's baby sister against the wishes of her family. It had been at the funeral for Aunt Shannon and her cousin Kelly, and he'd been snubbed even then. Even after death, the family couldn't forgive Shannon for marrying a marine – an enlisted one, at that. 

_“If she's going to debase herself by marrying a common soldier, the least she could have done was catch herself an officer!”_

But that wasn't how a young Willow had seen him. The memory of his imposing, solid form next to the graves of his wife and daughter, still stuck with her to this day. He'd been tall and solemn in his dress uniform, surrounded by a few similarly-dressed friends.

He'd remained silent and controlled throughout the short ceremony and the condolences and the hateful tirades of a grieving family who blamed him for the loss of their beloved angel. Blamed him for not being informed immediately, instead finding out a month later. Even when an eight year old Willow had cringed in embarrassment and shame at her family, her quiet uncle had remained unmoved.

To others he looked uncaring, but Willow had seen the pain in his eyes and understood that he'd lost his entire world. He hadn't been there to protect his family, instead he'd been over in Kuwait serving his country, and then he'd been in a coma for almost three weeks. His frustration and anger at himself outweighed whatever his wife's family could throw at him.

She remembered hiding in one of the closets at the memorial service, trying to escape the all consuming anger that filled the house. Fifteen years ago, she hadn't understood why everyone was being so mean and hateful. Her aunt and cousin were dead – they should be sad, not angry at Uncle Jethro; he'd lost them, too. And then there he was, crouching down in front of her, taking up most of the doorway.

He'd been so kind, speaking to her like what she said mattered. Like she mattered. Like she was important. It was a feeling she had always associated with him, because even before aunt Shannon and Kelly had died, he'd always made her feel like one of his family.

Family she hadn't seen in almost a decade and a half.

_“She's not yours! Don't try to replace your child with mine!”_

The words still echoed in her head years after they'd been shouted at Uncle Jethro when Willow's mother had found them – her curled up in the corner of an old closet and him crouched down trying to coax her out. It had been the last time she'd seen him, and after four years and even more arguments, Willow had learned to stop asking to visit. But she hadn't learned how to stop wanting and missing him.

What stuck out the most, was the way he'd argued right back at her mother, without ever raising his voice. Looking back on it now, Willow had to smile at how his quiet and hard voice had sent Sheila Rosenberg into an even greater rage. If there was one thing Sheila hated, it was not being the calm and controlled one in an argument.

But the way he'd stood up to her mother had forever sealed him in her heart.

He'd become the hero of an eight year old, and never even knew it.

And after fifteen years, it was time to reconnect with her family.

_Ding dong._

It was definitely time.


	2. Long Time, No See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no expiry date on family bonds.

_Ding-dong._

_Was it too much to ask to be left alone..._ thought Jethro Gibbs as his doorbell rang for the third time. The one night the entire week he'd made it home before dark, and someone was at his door. He was never going to get his boat finished at this rate.

“What!” he snapped as he threw open the door, planning to give the caller the full force of his irritation.

The first thing he noticed was the wide, startled eyes, in a shade of green that was vaguely familiar.

“Um, hi.” said a young, female voice; hesitant as she obviously struggled to speak, in the face of his annoyance. “I...ah...”

There was something very familiar about her, and it wasn't just the hair. Hair which was almost an identical shade to his first wife, Shannon's. The thought of her still brought a tight ache to his chest, and this visitor was almost too much.

“Willow?” he asked, wonder and disbelief colouring his voice as he placed the face of his visitor with that of the eight year old he remembered.

A weak smile started to curve her lips at the recognition.

“Hi, Uncle Jethro.”

“Get in here.” he told her, his own smile sliding across his face as his earlier irritation was forgotten. It had been close to fifteen years since he'd seen her, the last time at the memorial service for his wife and daughter. Even then, she'd reminded him so much of the wife and daughter he'd lost, that it was almost too much for him to bear. When he'd found her hiding in the back closet, he'd felt his heart begin to beat again. She was the same age as Kelly. The two of them could have been sisters the way they acted around each other. In fact, when they were together, he'd _felt_ like he had two daughters.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, guiding her to his semi-functional living room. 

“Well, since it's Spring Break and all, I decided to actually take a break and go somewhere different, and then I thought of you because for years ..a-after..I ...um...I kept bugging Mom and Dad to come see you again, but they never wanted too – always had an excuse – but I didn't have one, so I booked a ticket out to Washington and grabbed a cab here all the while hoping you hadn't moved or anything and I.....” At this she finally paused, and Jethro was amazed to see this habit carried over into adulthood. As a child, Willow had been constantly talking, questioning and describing everything that came into her mind or field of vision. It had not been normal behaviour for the inquisitive child, who he was told rarely spoke more than five words at a time, so he was extra proud when he managed to turn his niece into a babbling machine.

He also noticed she was biting her lip in anxiety, another trait carried over from childhood. “What?”

“Nothing. It's just good to see you again.” he told her, pleased when he saw a wide smile break across her face. His arms were suddenly filled as she threw herself into a spontaneous hug, squeezing him hard. Reflexively, his own arms wrapped themselves around her body, pulling her tight into his embrace.

They stayed in that position for some time, the only sound the whispered words of Special Agent Gibbs.

“I missed you, too.”


	3. Long Distance Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs may have met his match.

“Look, why don't you come here for the summer.” suggested Gibbs into the phone – cordless, after the fourth call from Willow that had him tied to a three foot radius of the phone jack in his basement - held between ear and shoulder. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but he was a Marine – he would deal. Besides, it gave him free hands to work on his beloved boat.

_”I can't just leave Sunnydale for the summer.”_

“Why not?” he asked her, his hands never stopping their movements as he smoothed out another board that would be the backbone of the hull. “What's keeping you in California for the summer?”

_”I have friends here-”_

“Who you see all year long.” he interrupted her. “Besides, you told me that this Giles guy was taking Buffy and Dawn to England for the summer, and that your friend Xander was going to be working some big construction job outside of San Francisco.” The knowledge that an older man would be taking one of Willow's friends and her fifteen year old sister to a foreign country for several months was more than a little hinky in his mind. However, Willow had assured him that nothing 'untoward' was going on – her word, not his – and to think of it more like a field trip for school. 

His priority at the moment wasn't the strange relationship between a school-librarian-turned-store-owner and one of his former students. Gibbs was trying his damnedest to get Willow to DC for the summer. The week she had spent with him a month earlier had been the most enjoyable in his recent memory.

_“I know, but Anya's going to be all alone and I don't want her to think I've abandonned her.”_

“She'll be busy enough running the store and planning the wedding, Willow.” he told her, putting his tools down so he could devote his full attention to this conversation. His gut was telling him she was close to folding, and he didn't want to waste the opportunity.

_“But she'll need help, and there are a couple of classes I was thinking of taking-”_

“You have enough credits to graduate a year early. And besides,” he pushed on, determined to win this battle of wills. “when do you get to do what you want. When was the last time you did something – anything – because you wanted to, not to help one of your friends out of some situation.”

_”But I **want** to help my friends. That's what friends do.”_

“When was the last time one of them helped you with something you were interested in? Or went somewhere that you wanted to go?” he asked her. Throughout their many conversations, Gibbs had noted this recurring theme when Willow talked about her friends. School work was about the only thing that she ever did for herself, with most of her recounted activities leading off with _'Buffy wanted to see....'_ or _'Giles asked me to....'_ or some variation involving one of her friends.

_“Well, I've been busy recently.”_

“Doing what?” he prodded, keeping his voice quiet and calm.

Pause.

_”Helping Buffy study. Taking care of the house. Watching the store for Anya and Giles. Doing computer stuff for Giles. Listening to Anya plan the wedding. Listening to Xander complain about Anya planning the wedding...”_

She sounded resigned and defeated, which hadn't been Gibbs' plan in the slightest. He was still learning the minefield that was his niece's personality, and realized he'd probably pushed too far.

“Come to DC.” he repeated, injecting some excitement into his voice that was completely real. “You'll stay with me for the summer, we'll get to know each other better. And if you get bored with my company, you can always go find summer job. Hell, I can hook you up at NCIS.”

_”I don't want to impose.”_

“You're never an imposition, Willow.” he assured her, pleased to hear she sounded more upbeat than she had a moment before, if a little unsure. “You're family. The only real family I have left.”

 

A long moment of silence followed, then...

_sniff_

“Are you crying?” he demanded, hearing more sniffing sounds from the other end of the line. “You stop that right now.” he told her. 

Jethro Gibbs did not do crying women well. Psychotic, rage-driven women coming at him with golf clubs...that he could deal with; tears, on the other hand – not so much.

_”Ok.”_

“Ok – what?” he asked, not sure if she was talking about the summer or the tears. Hopefully, both.

_”Ok – I'll come to DC for the summer.”_

“Well...good.” he said, thrown off balance by her sudden capitulation. It was a feeling he wasn't particularly fond of, but found himself experiencing more often than not in his dealings with Willow.

_”I'll let you know when I'm coming down.”_

“You do that.” he said. “And take care of yourself.”

_“You too, Uncle Jethro. Night.”_

“Goodnight, Willow.”

Hanging up the phone, Gibbs paused for a moment, reflecting on these latest developments. He hadn't expected to win so easily. So either Willow was more of a pushover than he had originally thought, or she'd made up her mind before tonight, and had just been stringing him along until she was satisfied that he believed he'd won.

 _That little minx._ he thought fondly, shaking his head and smiling with pride.

This was going to be an interesting summer.


	4. Flight 1362

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Marines had taught him patience, but this place was testing it._

Gibbs came to the conclusion that he hated airports. All of them.

Normally, he'd just flash his badge, walk on through and couldn't give a damn about anything else that went on.

Now, however, flashing his badge got him nothing – except a reprieve from a twitchy security guard around hour three. Honestly, you'd think no one had ever sat around the waiting lounge for a delayed flight before.

Around hour four and a half, he'd had to grudgingly agree with DiNozzo. NCIS needed their own jet. He could have found an excuse to head to LA, and picked Willow up there, instead of having her fly on her own.

Not that he didn't think she could do that - she was 23 for crying out loud. But he was still allowed to worry about her. He knew the multitude of ways even the simplest of tasks could go disastrously wrong, and hoped the delay was actual 'mechanical difficulties' and not just another way of saying 'someone looked shifty so all of LAX is in lockdown'. 

The Marines had taught him patience, but this place was testing it.

He'd been tempted to go back home and wait to hear that her plane was actually in the air before coming back, but every new delay was 'they'll be here in another hour', only to find out they hadn't even left the ground, or as of the last announcement 'diverted to another airport'.

Gibbs' was surprised at how much patience he had, as normally he'd be working in to a fine rage right now, demanding answers and flashing his badge, but knowing how Willow would be both embarrassed and angry pulled him back every time. Well, when dealing with the airline people. The security guards were another matter altogether. After hour four, he'd passed his time by eyeballing the obvious newbies, and staring them down whenever they grew enough balls to look in his direction. The older ones, the ones who had the look of soldiers who'd seen combat, simply nodded in his direction and let him crank up the younger ones, to Gibbs' personal amusement.

The ringing of his cell phone drew his attention away from the arrivals board, which now had Willow's plan landing in ten minutes. The same thing it had been displaying for the last forty five minutes.

“This had better be important!” he snapped into the phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID. It was his day off, and nothing short of nuclear war was going to drag him away right now.

 _“Agent Gibbs.”_ came a deep voice from the other end.

“Director Morrow.” answered Gibbs, checking his tone of voice in the face of his superior's obvious bad mood. “I'm off today.” he reminded him, having no plans to go in to work, no matter the case. Willow's arrival was more important.

 _“And you decided to spend intimidating airport security?”_ came the reprimand.

“No, sir. That's just a bonus.”

_“Jethro...”_

“I'm waiting for someone.” Gibbs offered in the face of the warning.

_“Business or personal?”_

“Personal.”

 _“How late is the flight?”_ Morrow asked, and Gibbs knew he was off the hook.

“Seven hours and twenty seven minutes, sir.”

_“Right. Well, enjoy the rest of your day off. And Agent Gibbs...?”_

“Yes, sir?”

_“I don't want any more calls from the head of airport security. We have enough inter-agency feuds without adding the locals in to the mix.”_

“Understood.” replied Gibbs before hanging up, hoping that the plane would get here already.

The magazines at the newstand were starting to look interesting, and he wanted to be long gone before he had to shoot himself for giving in and spending money on that crap.

He was really craving a coffee, too, but finding a good cup of coffee in this airport had the same odds as a flight actually arriving on time. _What kind of airport doesn't have a Starbucks, anyways?_

Glancing at the arrivals board again, Gibbs noticed that the plane had arrived – five minutes ago. _Couldn't they find competent people to work for the airlines?_

Standing up, he scanned the crowd until he saw a familiar red head moving towards him.

Meeting Willow's smiling face, Gibbs decided the seven and a half hour wait was worth it.


	5. Cookie Goodness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now they kept returning empty tins, expecting small talk and coffee in exchange for free baked goods.

Gibbs opened the door, walked into his house, took a deep breath....and stifled a curse.

The house smelled of baking. Again.

“Willow?” he called out unnecessarily. He knew where his niece was.

“In the kitchen.” she called out from the back of the house.

The same place she'd been for the last two weeks.

It still surprised Gibbs that it had only taken her a little over a week to get bored. He'd been expecting at least three weeks before she started growing desperate for something else to do. But, no. For the last two weeks, he'd come home every day to find her baking something in the kitchen.

While he was glad she'd finally expanded her repertoire of baked goods to more than three kinds of cookies, cupcakes, squares and brownies were not his desserts of choice.

Not anymore, anyways.

After the first few days, the overflow had been too much for his cupboards, fridges and freezers, and there was only so much the two of them could eat themselves, or pawn off on the neighbours it had taken him years to train into a 'nodding' acquaintanceship.

Now they kept returning empty tins, expecting small talk and coffee in exchange for free baked goods.

It was after the third time Mrs Granger from two houses down had 'accidentally' left some underwear behind, that Gibbs had allowed himself to be convinced to bring the overflow to work.

That had resulted in an even bigger mess.

His even more carefully cultivated reputation as a first class bastard was being systematically torn to shreds under the landslide of 'Oh, cookies!' and the frankly disturbing noises being emitted by hoards of ravenous NCIS agents and staff.

It had to stop.

Luckily, he'd heard of a student internship opening up in the IT section. A few well placed threats and bribes – the damn brownies were finally good for something - and he had a promise to hold off on advertising the position until the end of the week.

Now he just had to get Willow to agree to it.

With a sigh, he made his way into his previously pristine kitchen, and froze.

For the first time in his life, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was speechless.

Because dishes should not be washing themselves!


	6. Nothing to See Here, Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was she going to explain this without sounding crazy.

Willow stared in horror at her uncle, who was staring with horror at the dishes in the sink that were doing their best to clean themselves.

Clean. Themselves.

She was _so_ stupid. How could she be so careless!

She'd meant to have everything cleaned up and put away by the time he got home, but she'd gotten so caught up that she hadn't even thought twice about using the dish washing spell. She'd used it a hundred times before in Sunnydale, and never had a problem.

But that had been her biggest mistake – forgetting that this wasn't Sunnydale. And her Uncle Jethro had no idea about witches and magic.

Well, before right this minute, anyways.

How was she going to explain this without sounding crazy. And how could he accept it all, without thinking both of them crazy.

He was an ex-Marine. An NCIS agent who worked on fact and evidence and science. If you couldn't prove it, he didn't believe in it.

“Willow?” he called out in a wary voice, his eyes never leaving the sink full of self-propelling pots and pans.

A quick flick of her wrist, and the spell dissipated, causing the dishes to crash into the sink, sending soapy water over the edge, onto the floor.

“Yes, Uncle Jethro?” she replied, in her calmest, most innocent voice.

_That's right. Nothing to see here. Those dishes weren't just washing themselves – no, sirree!_

“What in the hell is going on.” he asked her, in an equally calm voice.

“Whatever do you mean, Uncle Jethro?” Willow answered back, still holding on to the slim hope that she could imagine this away.

His narrow-eyed gaze landed straight onto her, and she knew the jig was up.

She was in sooo much trouble.


	7. Reality Will Never Be the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wished he would just say something, anything.

“Magic.” he said in a flat tone of voice, and Willow silently cursed him for being so in-control, even now. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, whether it was 'placate the crazy person until I can call the psych ward for vacancies' or 'please let one of us be hallucinating, and by *us* I mean you'. Then again, for all she knew, it was the 'this is what smoking that funny weed does to perfectly intelligent young people' tone of voice.

She didn't delude herself into believing it was the 'I know all about the demon nightlife, it just surprises me that you do, too' tone.

“Uh-huh.” Willow answered, and felt her heart rate speed up even more. Her mouth was dry, her legs were shaking and her palms were getting sweatier and clammier by the minute.

She wished he would just _say_ something, anything. This silent, staring thing he was doing was unnerving – like she was one of his suspects, or something, and he was trying to stare her into admitting the truth.

“Magic is real.” he said again, for the fifth time. If this were any other conversation on any other night, Willow would be teasing him about senility and old age, but this wasn't any other night. 

“Yep.” Willow replied, still not able to focus on a single point in the entire room. Her gaze kept shifting everywhere, coming to rest on her uncle every few seconds, hoping to finally see _something_ other than that blank look on his face.

“Where you sniffing the cooking spray earlier?”

Willow figured the 'extremely _offendedannoyedshocked_ ' gasp she made was enough of an answer to that.

“You're seriously trying to tell me that all that _hocus-pocus_ -mumbo-jumbo is true? Cauldrons and broomsticks and black cats?”

“Not...entirely.” she hedged, wincing. Now was not the time to expound on her issues regarding witching stereotypes.

A raised eyebrow was her only response.

“Well, I've never owned a broomstick, let alone flown on one. In fact, I'm not sure you even could....though...maybe with a levitation spell to get you off the ground, and then you'd need some sort of small wind spell to help you steer, but why anyone would want to try on an actual broom-” Great. This was a fantastic time for her babbling habit to kick in. “And I don't have any cats, black or otherwise.” Not that she wouldn't like one, but in this house, with her uncle? – yeah, no. Alpha issues aside, she didn't even know if he liked cats. Or pets. Or animals, in general. “And the cauldrons only get used for the really big spells – ones that require heavy duty potions. Usually short phrases or chants work for the smaller stuff.”

And that was officially too much information in a thirty second period.

“Chants.” And they were back to the blank disbelieving/insane niece look again.

This called for a demonstration. Mumbling a few words under her breath and a slight flick of the wrist, she floated a book left on the hallway table into the living room, letting it hand in mid-air next to her Uncle Jethro.

Willow held her breath as he looked at the floating book that was breaking several laws of physics, and every law of gravity, hoping that it was the beginning of acceptance she saw on his face.

Then his body sort of slumped in place, as if under the weight of this new revelation/dimension in his world, and said...

“Huh.”


	8. Payback's A Witch Named Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic was _way_ cooler.

“...And the pointy hats?”

“Not even at Hallowe'en.” Willow confirmed, glad to be back on safer ground – sort of.

They'd spent the last few hours talking about the technical aspects of magic and spellcasting, and how it fit into the realm of science. She'd tried her best to answer his questions, giving them the thought and consideration they deserved, because he was making a real effort to understand. He was a man who worked on facts and logic, and was trying to fit this new revelation into his world view.

Actually, she'd enjoyed it. She'd never really thought about the science behind the spells she did. Everything was usually all laid out for her. Say these words in this order, with this hand gesture and this was the result. Put these ingredients together, say these words and place the finished product here, and this is what will happen – or not happen. But actually trying to understand _why_ certain ingredients worked this way together, but only with the right words, was beyond her.

It was invigorating to challenge herself in this way. This was something she'd have to get back to, because it certainly warranted further study.

But now they were back to stereotypes and myths. They'd thankfully glossed over the whole 'burned at the stake' thing, because she still hadn't told him about vampires, demons and the occasional apocalypse.

She figured she'd break that to him more slowly, a bit at a time.

Later. Much, much later.

“This whole magic thing is still a little hinky to me.” he admitted after a short silence. “Floating a book can be explained if you believe in stuff like telekinesis.”

Willow never would have picked him for the science fiction type.

“Are you sure it's not just some funky mind power?” he asked her. And the fact that he sounded like he _really_ wanted her to say that, threw her more than anything all evening.

“Fine. I'll prove it!” Willow finally said, turning her own glare on him for even suggesting that her magic was some lame mutant power. Magic was _way_ cooler.

Willow quickly ran to the den, grabbing some paper and a pen. Sitting down next to her uncle, she quickly wrote a – slightly – snarky message, signing her name with a big smiley face and an obnoxious 'Happy Hallowe'en'.

Folding the paper, she placed it on the coffee table, and cast a quick glance at her uncle.

He still had a slightly dubious look on his face, which just pushed her ire further.

 _Well, fine!_ Willow thought, irritated and slightly vengeful. She'd had so many people doubting her ability back in Sunnydale, and it hurt that her uncle was the same. Willow tried to tell herself that it was only natural, especially since the entire 'magic' thing was so new for him, but it didn't help.

She'd show him 'telekinesis'!

Several chanted sentences and hand-waving gestures later, the note was gone, Willow felt mildly better, and her uncle looked slightly shell shocked at the light show.

“It'll be on your desk in the morning.” she told him.

Willow tried not to smile too broadly as she left the room.

The kitchen wouldn't clean itself – well, maybe.


	9. Unexpected Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hallowe'en at NCIS...or is it?

“What the....”

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stared in confused horror at the spectacle that greeted his arrival in his corner of the NCIS office space. Working at NCIS, and under the all-seeing eye of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had taught him to expect the unexpected, but this was so far beyond 'unexpected' that it wasn't even in the same state.

“What's going on, DiNozzo?” he heard a voice question from behind him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his boss's desk long enough to answer his partner, Caitlin Todd, so instead settled for vague hand waving in the direction of Gibbs' desk, hoping that he wasn't the only one disturbed by what was there.

“What the hell?”

Good to know.

“Kate, is that a-”

“Jack-o-lantern.”

“And sitting on the monitor?”

“A fairly life-like skeleton.”

“And the flowers?”

“Orange and black roses.”

“And the streamers...?” 

“It *is* June...right?”

“Abby, you think?”

 _Maybe...._ he thought, but...

“No.” 

The Goth scientist knew better than to mess with Gibbs' desk. _Everyone_ knew better than to mess with the ex-Marine's desk.

“So who could have...?” asked Kate.

“There's a note in the flowers.”

“I wouldn't, Tony.” Kate warned him even as he casually moved to his boss's desk, intent on grabbing the *hopefully* insightful note.

“You want something, DiNozzo?” called out a voice that froze Tony mid-reach.

“No, Boss.” he said quickly, stepping away from the desk.

“Kate and I were just wondering....” he trailed off, and quick hand gesture in the direction of the cardboard banner proclaiming 'Happy Hallowe'en' hanging off the side of the desk.

When Gibbs' himself came to a screeching halt next to the desk, Tony knew that someone was going to lose something over this prank. Possibly a limb or two.

“What the hell is this?”

“There's a note, Boss.” Tony added helpfully, snatching the piece of paper from the vase of roses. “Maybe it's from a secret admirer. You know, this is just the kind of thing that some women will do to get your attention. In fact, a buddy in college had a girl who tried to-”

“DiNozzo!” said an exasperated Gibbs. “Give me the note.”

“Here ya go, Boss.” he said carefully, handing over the note to the other man.

“I didn't know you were into Hallowe'en, Gibbs.” commented Kate.

“It's the middle of June, Kate.” he said, in an exasperated tone as his eyes scanned through the note.

A smile suddenly spread across his face. The kind of smile usually reserved for children and beautiful women.

DiNozzo tried to sublety read the note upside down, but all he got was 'Told you' and a signature that kind of looked like 'Willow', but he couldn't be sure.

_Who was 'Willow'?_

Tucking the paper inside his breast pocket, Gibbs glared at Tony.

“Grab your gear. We've got a dead Commander outside a grocery store in Richmond.” said Gibbs, already moving to the elevators.

Two confused NCIS agents in his wake.


	10. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hoped she was related or some close friend's daughter, otherwise Gibbs' taste in women was getting downright disturbing.

Jason Chalmers looked intently at the extremely nervous young woman in front of him, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong in his life to be so easily bribed by Agent Gibbs' baked goods. (Jason had had several late night talks with his partner about the wrongness of 'Gibbs' and 'baked goods' in the same hemisphere, let alone the same sentence.) He had a position to fill, and didn't have time to deal with wannabe computer novices related to the scariest agent in all of NCIS.

At least, he hoped she was related or some close friend's daughter, otherwise Gibbs' taste in women was getting downright disturbing.

“Miss Rosenberg,” he began, trying desperately to draw her attention away from her inevitable panic attack. “So you're here about the summer intern position in the IT department.”

“Uh huh.”

Well, at least she was articulate.

“Can you tell me of any experience you've had with computers?” he asked, expecting something along the lines of 'one time I undeleted a file that was totally lost on my friend's computer'. So he was completely taken aback when she started listing platforms, systems and languages she was familiar with.

Jason began quizzing her on exactly what she had real experience with, and what she'd picked up from textbooks and other sources.

“Well, you're a little weak on your knowledge of .NET architecture, but that's easy enough to learn.” He told her as he started filling out some key points in the application, knowing exactly what to put to get it past the toads in HR.

“Is there anything else I should add?” he asked her, pen poised over the 'Additional Accomplishments' field and trying not to feel too giddy over finally having a summer intern who knew which end of the hard drive to hook up.

“Well, I've kinda-maybe-sorta found my way in to various websites of various agencies that I probably shouldn't have...” she told him slowly, her face scrunching in wariness.

“By 'various agencies' you mean...” he asked, not really sure he wanted an answer.

“Local police, FBI, UCLA, Sunnydale city council, Delta Airlines, various friend's computers-”

“Woah! That's more that I needed to know.” Jason told her, trying to blink away the arrest warrants flashing before his eyes.

“Just don't get caught.” was all he said, before filling in the last line on the application form.

_Additional Accomplishments: Hands-on experience in network security._


	11. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”The first ones always the worst.”

Willow gasped and choked, her throat burning and eyes watering, as she tried to drag fresh air in to her lungs, to clear away the noxious fumes. It took a few minutes, but eventually she regained her breath, even though her throat and mouth felt raw.

“Are you sure you didn't mix up the Jack with the paint thinner?” Willow asked when she could finally talk again.

“Nah.” her uncle answered. “The first ones always the worst.”

The little smile on his face should have warned her, but she was too happy about working with her uncle at NCIS to really be bothered by it.

More gasping and coughing followed the second swallow.

“Liar.”

Gibbs just smiled even wider, and poured her another shot.


	12. First Day...Kind Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Junior IT Specialist. AKA – whatever we don't feel like doing ourselves._

Willow glanced around the office for the hundredth time, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

It was her first day at NCIS, and her stomach felt like it was training for the Olympics.

Well, technically, it was actually her fourth day, but she didn't think the first three counted, as she'd spent them alone in an empty office, watching training videos and reading over the fifteen bajillion confidentiality statements she had to sign.

But today she was actually going to be able to do something...just as soon as someone told her what her job was. The job description had been suitably vague, in that she had no concrete duties.

 _Junior IT Specialist_. AKA – whatever we don't feel like doing ourselves.

She just wished someone would get around to throwing her something soon. There was only so much time she could spend 'setting up her computer' (she'd already hacked Windows and given herself admin privileges, because it was stupid to not allow her admin access on her own computer), and any minute now she was going to start surfing the net for a new desktop background. She also didn't know how much programming she'd end up doing outside of the .NET stuff, so there was no point in setting up a dual boot with Linux just yet – though it _would_ kill the time until it was time to go home.

On the plus side, she'd been given a Level 3 access to the firewall and various internal servers, so at least she wouldn't have to tunnel her way through the government enforced internet access control to get to certain sites.

But that didn't mean she wasn't any less bored.

Just when she was about to give in and email her uncle to express her boredom, the main door to IT opened, and a harassed young man flew in. He looked cute in that hugable teddy bear way, with his short dark hair and round face. He also looked out of place in his business suit, surrounded as he was by khakis wearing computer geeks.

“What can I do for you, Agent McGee?” asked Jason Chalmers, the head of NCIS IT and her boss.

“I need a new phone. Now.” he said, rushed and out of breath, eyes wide.

“Dare I ask what happened to yours?” Jason asked, eyebrows raised in amusement as he tried to keep the smile off his face. In fact, everyone else in the room had a sudden interest in their current tasks, though Willow was sure she'd heard a muffled laugh or two. Willow, herself, was having trouble keeping the smile off her face.

The stories about agents destroying their equipment were vast and varied, but none quite so legendary as that of her uncle's team. The number of phones alone, was staggering.

“It's not mine, it's Gibbs'.” McGee said, holding out what Willow could now see was a badly damaged PDA phone. A 'brand new' badly damaged PDA phone. In fact, it was the one she'd seen her uncle grab off the kitchen counter this morning before coming in to work.

“What about the backup supply?” she heard Jason ask, and wondered what he meant by 'backup supply'.

“This is it.” said McGee, motioning to the broken device. “It's been a bad month. We put in for another batch, but it hasn't come in yet.”

Jason just sighed in a way that Willow was becoming familiar with. It was his 'humouring the field agents' sigh. Then he called out to Willow and motioned her to join them.

“Take Agent McGee to the Vault and get him one of the new 830's as a replacement. They're more durable, so should last a little longer.” The last part was said to McGee, before they were sent off down the hall.

This was one of the things she knew how to do, as she'd been assigned her own phone just hours before. (Every person in IT had one, for both emergencies and to keep in touch as they moved throughout the various NCIS buildings they serviced.) It was also her only defined job, currently – to keep field agent's mobile tech up-to-date and functional.

As they left the smallish office, Willow noticed the smirk that was barely held in check on Jason's face, and knew that she would be interacting with Agent Gibbs' team more often. The others in IT had a vile dislike of the team, though no one could decide if it was because of Gibbs and his destructive tendencies, or MIT-computer genius McGee who kept showing them up – that much she'd learned over lunches and breaks these last few days. Either way, the overworked IT guys had decided that Gibbs was the devil and his team were his evil minions.

Not that Willow minded. At least she had something to do now.

It would be interesting to see how her uncle interacted with the other agents, and Willow was under no illusions about Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He was a marine to the core.

Who apparently didn't like phones.

Well, no one's perfect.


	13. Red Headed Tech Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He should know how to act in almost any situation, even one that called for small talk with a colleague._

Special Agent Timothy McGee watched the red head out of the corner of his eye as they walked down the hall to what the tech guys called the 'Vault'. The Vault contained all the surplus electronic equipment and computer parts that NCIS used, past, present and future. He'd only been there a few times, but could easily get lost in the mess.

But despite his excitement to get in to the Vault again, his natural curiosity was more focussed on the woman by his side.

“Special Agent Tim McGee.” he introduced himself.

“Oh. Willow Rosenberg.” she answered, quickly shaking his hand before unlocking the door to the Vault and entering. He could tell he was unnerving her and, remembering his own uncertainty his first few times around NCIS agents, tried to put her at ease.

“You're new.” he stated, watching as she went over to one of the large locked cabinets on the far wall.

“First week.” Willow said, unlocking the metal cabinet. “Summer intern.”

“Ah.” was all he could think to say, kicking himself. He was a fully qualified NCIS field agent, and though he was still on his probation period, he wasn't a complete newbie. He should know how to act in almost any situation, even one that called for small talk with a colleague.

“This will take a few minutes.” she told him, hooking up the newly unwrapped PDA to the broken one, to transfer the information. It was a process he was familiar with, having had to do something similar on an almost weekly basis.

McGee took the time to browse through one of the shelves to his left, trying to hold himself back from scrounging through parts. He could already see bits and pieces of antique computer systems, and the computer geek inside him was bouncing up and down in nerd joy.

“So what happened?” he heard Willow ask, drawing his attention back to the young woman. “To this?” she clarified, holding up the latest casualty in Gibbs' war on technology.

“Gibbs happened.” he told her.

“Excuse me?” McGee noticed briefly that she looked really cute when she was confused, but tossed that thought aside just as quickly. Getting involved with the people you worked with was dangerous. His experience with Abby was more than enough to put him off the women he worked around, even though he still didn't know if they were dating or broken up. If they'd even been dating in the first place – Abby hadn't been really clear on what they were, and he'd given up trying to figure it out.

“Special Agent Gibbs – my boss.” he explained to her, remembering that this was only her first week. She probably hadn't been around long enough to get the full Gibbs experience, so he explained. “He's technology phobic. If it can't read his mind, he gets frustrated with it and starts to bang on it, throw it, hit it. A couple of times he's drowned it – once in paint thinner. I think if he could get away with it, he'd avoid touching a computer for the rest of his life.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “That seems a little – excessive.”

“He's just use to doing things a certain way, and doesn't like to change all that much.” he told her, wondering if he'd imagined the little smile on her face or not.

“So, how many of these does he usually go through in a month?”

“Well, he's gotten better. It used to be four to five a month, but now it's only about one or two. Well...except for this past month. This'll be number six so far.” he said. “That's why we ran out. We usually stock up extras so we can replace the broken one quickly, but we weren't prepared for this month's spree.”

“Really.” And this time McGee knew he hadn't imagined the smile on her face, because it carried over into her voice.

“So, what about you?” he asked her, trying to pull her attention away from his boss. “How did you end up at NCIS?”

“My uncle works here, and gave me a heads up when this job came around.”

“Seriously?” he asked, only realizing afterwards how that sounded. “Not that I'm sure you're not qualified or anything...” He was trying to recover, but kept stumbling over his words. “I'm sure Jason wouldn't have hired you if you weren't – you know – up on your stuff-computers, I mean...”

“I know what you meant.” she said quickly. “My uncle explained about the whole 'not hiring relatives just because they're relatives' policy. But I know my way around computers, and Jason was happy with my qualifications, so...”

And that settled it for McGee, because he knew enough about Jason Chalmers to know that the head of NCIS IT wouldn't hire someone's niece unless she _really_ knew what she was doing. So when she said Jason was 'happy with her qualifications', it meant 'could replace one of my techs'.

“Well, here you go.” she said abruptly, unhooking the new PDA and handing it to him. “It works the same as the old one, but it's more durable. I'll get some backups to you soon.”

“Thanks.” McGee said on his way out the door.

“And tell Agent Gibbs to go easy on those. They don't grow on trees.” 

There was no missing the laughter in her voice, that time.

He was really confused.


	14. Working Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was starting to pick up his bad habits.

_”Do you have time for lunch?”_

“What?” asked Gibbs, confused and cautious. He'd only just answered his phone, and was already losing the thread of the conversation. But that was normal when he talked to Willow.

 _”I asked if you had any time to spare for lunch. You know...Food. Eat. Yummy goodness.”_ she said, speaking to him in her 'humouring the slow person' voice.

She was the only person who could use that tone of voice and not be torn to shreds, and she knew it.

“I'm kinda busy here.” he told her, not lying. He had three dead bodies, one of them a marine killed in action and on the fast track to a silver star, but only if they could prove that he hadn't been the cause of the first dead body. And their only real source of the truth had to go and commit suicide.

_“Can you spare fifteen minutes for lunch?”_

“Sure, but I can't get across town in fifteen minutes, let alone down the block.” he told her, pitching his voice low enough that he hoped Kate Todd and the visiting Commander Coleman couldn't hear.

_”Just come outside, silly. North entrance, picnic table on your left.”_

“What are you doing here?” he asked. She was suppose to have gone shopping for work clothes, not visiting him at NCIS headquarters where he was working through the weekend. “Weren't you going shopping?”

_”I did that yesterday, Uncle Jethro. Today's Sunday. And you definitely need a break, if you don't remember that. I brought food. Now get out here and enjoy the sun with me.”_

And then she hung up, cutting off whatever protest he might have had.

Gibbs just stared at the silent phone for a minute, trying to decide if he should be angry or amused.

He finally went with rueful amusement, and decided that she'd been spending far too much time around him. She was starting to pick up his bad habits.

“I'll be back in fifteen minutes.” he announced aloud as he left the office, uncaring of the smile stretching across his face.

It was nice to have someone who cared.


	15. Profiling vs Spying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his smiling was starting to creep her out.

Special Agent Kate Todd was taking a five minute break when she saw it. Gibbs eating at a picnic table with some red head, smiling at whatever his companion had just said.

Gibbs had announced he was taking a short break before leaving the office, and after the screen swam one too many times in front of her eyes, Kate decided to follow his example and get some fresh air. She hadn't expected to come across her boss having a lunch date, and fell back around the corner before either of them could spot her.

True, she'd heard him having a low, barely audible conversation on his cell phone just before he'd gone on his break, but hadn't really bothered to pay attention. Now she wished she had.

Peaking around the corner, Kate watched the two of them. She wished she could hear what they were saying, because despite the stress and pressure he was putting them all under this weekend – including himself – Gibbs looked relaxed and comfortable for the first time since....well, since she'd joined the team.

At first glance, to anyone passing by would immediately classify the scene as 'older guy, younger woman', but Kate hadn't made it this far in her career by making snap judgements. Something didn't add up about their interaction.

Determined to solve the mystery in front of her, Kate watched them through a profiler's eyes.

She wasn't a romantic interest for Gibbs, was the first thing Kate decided. Their body language was all off for that. Neither of them leaned deliberately towards the other as they spoke, usually gestures of intimacy and privacy. There were also no lingering looks between them, or really, any looks beyond normal conversation glances. They didn't touch like lovers – they didn't really touch at all. And they were on opposite sides of the table, whereas many couples would sit side by side in this type of situation.

No, they weren't a couple in the romantic sense, but there was a sense of them being comfortable in each other's presence. There wasn't any hesitation as they ate, showing that each of them were use to the other's table habits and manners. People eating together for the first few times generally hesitated over arm movements and such – especially women – not wanting their dining companions to see them as messy or overeaters. There was none of that awkwardness between them, especially on her part.

And Gibbs was comfortable in her presence. His shoulders didn't look so tense, his face was more relaxed and he was smiling and laughing. That alone upped her weird meter, but that wasn't it. It was the way that he looked at the young woman that really made her wonder who she was.

If she had to label it, Kate would have to say it was almost 'fond', and that he looked 'happy'.

It was really weird.

Because the only time she'd seen Gibbs look remotely like that, was when he was listening to Abby go off on one of her tangents. But this was still different from that, and as Kate watched for a while longer, it finally clicked.

Gibbs treated Abby almost like she was his pseudo-daughter, but not quite. There was always that edge between them, that he was her boss and they both had jobs to do. They were both professionals and the job came first, before any personal feelings.

There was none of that with this girl. And the more she thought about it, the more Kate was certain that whoever the girl was, she was very important to Gibbs. She may or may not be his daughter in a biological sense, but in every way that counted Gibbs saw her that way.

This girl, whoever she was, obviously saw him as a sort of father figure. They probably weren't related, but they might as well have been.

As Gibbs checked his watch, Kate realized that her five minutes had expired some time ago, and she should be getting back to work before Gibbs caught her spying on him.

And seriously, all his smiling was starting to creep her out.


	16. Girl Talk

“Hey, Abby.”

“Kate! You guys get the bad guy?”

“Of course.”

“So....what's up? Not that I don't appreciate the visit, but I'm still bummed about our missed spa weekend.”

“Me, too....”

“So? That can't be the only reason you wandered into my lab, this late on a Sunday night.”

“Why are you still here? I thought you were done processing the evidence?”

“I am! But I still have to write up a report about it, detail each step and the results of each test. Some days I do more paperwork than forensic analysis.”

“I hear you. I'm the same way with case reports. I swear, they take longer to write than some cases take to investigate.”

“What's up? You look troubled.”

“Have you noticed anything _odd_ about Gibbs this last little while?”

“'Odd'? He's been a beast all weekend?!”

“Not just this weekend, Abby. But for the last couple of weeks, or so? Anything different about him?”

“Now that you mention it, he has been a bit more smiley.”

“Yes. Exactly. It's really creepy. Gibbs doesn't smile!”

“Sure he does. He smiles all the time.”

“To you, maybe. Not to us.”

“So what brought this on to make you want to gossip about Gibbs?”

“I took a short break earlier, and saw something when I was walking around outside.”

“What, Gibbs having an illicit rendezvous under the big oak?”

“...”

“No way!”

“Not 'illicit', exactly. But there was definitely a picnic feel about it.”

“Who with?”

“I don't know. Never seen her before, but she was definitely younger and definitely a red head.”

“Go, Gibbs!”

“Mmm, I don't think it was like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I just got the feeling that it was more friendship and platonic than anything romantic.”

“How so?”

“The way he treated her – it was like he treats you. Affectionate and nice, but more.”

“More?”

“Let's just say that if Gibbs had a daughter or younger sister, I would assume it was her. It was just the way they talked and acted, like there was some bond between them that he doesn't share with anyone around here.”

“...”

“Abby? Are you okay?”

“No. I think I'm a little jealous. Make that 'a lot' jealous.”

“Should I leave?”

“No. No. I'm good.”

“Are you sure? You're face is all pinched up – and you've got your 'I can kill you and they'll never find the body' look.”

 _Deep breath._ “Reeeellllaaaxxxx.....”

“Abby....?”

“Ok. I'm calm now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now tell me all about this little she-girl who's trying to steal my Gibbs' affections.”

“Um...”


	17. Voicemail

”Hi. This is Willow's cell phone. I'm apparently not here right now, so if you'd leave a message I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.” 

_“Hey, Willow. It's Buffy. I'm calling from London – well, outside London. Look, we need you to look up something about were-cats and the new moon. We're having some problems here, and need to know if it's 'slayage' serious or just 'annoying' serious. Call me back on this number when you have something. Thanks. Bye.”_

#~# 

_”Hi Willow. It's Buffy again. Anything on those were-cats? The new moon-thing is coming up in another day or so, and we need to know if they're affected like werewolves and the full moon or not. I'd call the Magic Box again, but Anya's being especially rude and self-centered about the whole thing. Anyways, please call me back soon.”_

#~# 

_”Willow, I do wish you'd answer your phone at some point. Well, anyways, I suggest you look in the 'Animagicus' text in the Magic Box. It should be on the third shelf from the top. I hope to hear from you soon.”_

#~# 

_”Any luck yet, Willow? Buffy's getting twitchy and Giles keeps trying to calm her down while spouting dire warnings. It's actually very amusing to watch. Anyways, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Later, Wills.”_

#~# 

_”Wills, it's Buffy again. You should really turn on your phone when you're researching stuff. Well, anything on the research front? Moon rise is in less than two hours, and I could really use the info. Call me back, ASAP!”_

#~# 

_”Hey Willow, it's Dawn again. Don't worry about that whole were-cat thing. Giles called in a favour at the Watcher's Council and got them to give him the info, then Buffy made with the slayage. Anyways, since this is the first time Buffy's let me near the cell phone since we got here, I thought I'll let you know what's up._

_This place is soooo boring. Buffy spends most of the day either shopping or intimidating the Watchers, while Giles is all 'I'm so great, I have a Slayer' to the entire Council. I wish I could have stayed home with you. We always have fun, and you don't treat me like an unwanted third wheel._

_On that subject, what have you been up to? I haven't heard from you since before we left for boring-land, and was wondering how your summer's going. Tell me all about it, even if it's as boring as my own. Or actually, email me. Giles finally relented and let me have access to one of the computers at Council headquarters, so I have net access -_

_.....yeah, alright....geez.... Well, looks like I have to cut this short. Phone-zilla here wants her precious cell phone back. I miss you. Bye.”_

#~# 

Willow deleted the last message, and tried not to feel sad that this was the first time in over a month, that one of her friends had tried to contact her. 

It was easy to understand Anya's lack of contact, as the two of them had never really been close enough for that, but Xander hurt. She understood he was on a job in San Francisco, but he could still pick up a phone every now and then. But Buffy and Giles hurt the most, because after a month, the only calls she got were in the middle of a slayage-crisis. Which they hadn't really needed her for, after all. 

She'd had to put in some extra hours at work when one of the main servers developed a glitch and all the other techs had been out on calls, so when she'd checked her messages, she'd been surprised to see she had so many. There was one from Gibbs about his own late night, but the rest were from Buffy, Giles and Dawn. 

And only Dawn had asked after her. It sounded like Dawn was as bored in England as Willow was sure she would have been in Sunnydale all summer, and silently thanked her uncle for the invitation to Washington. 

_Save number?_ flashed on her screen as she deleted the previous messages, and after a moment's consideration, selected _No_. 

Willow made a note to email Dawn before she went to bed, because the teenager had actually sounded interested in how Willow was doing. And lonely, too. 

At least her summer was turning out more interesting than she'd planned. 

It was good to have family.


	18. Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the line, while he'd been learning her personality quirks, she'd apparently been picking up some of his.

Gibbs walked into his house, closed the front door behind him, and knew instantly that his long day was about to get even longer.

“Willow?” he called out, moving through the dark house. The only source of light was coming up from the basement below. Gibbs called her name again once he reached the stairs to the basement, hearing only light shuffling from below.

“Down here.” she called up, and Gibbs could tell from her voice that something was wrong. He'd known that the instant he'd come through the door – Willow always left at least one light on if he came home after she'd gone to sleep – but her voice just confirmed it. It was strange that he was learning to read his niece's moods and tones more effectively than he'd ever managed with any of his ex-wives. He couldn't blame it on time spent together or a conscious effort to learn her mannerisms, because this ability had seemed to sneak up on him. One day he was as confused as ever, and the next he knew that a certain lilt in her voice meant she was amused, no matter the expression on her face, and that when she played with the silver bracelet on her left wrist, she was anxious but not overly excited.

As he descended the wooden steps, Gibbs held back a sigh at the sight laid out before him. Somewhere along the line, while he'd been learning her personality quirks, she'd apparently been picking up some of his, because here she was working on his boat. Well, not _really_ working, as there was an absent-mindedness to her movements as she sanded the slats that had started to make up the underside of the unfinished boat.

“Something bothering you?” he asked, again marvelling at his actions. Except for Shannon, no other woman in his life had ever made him want to talk before – which probably explained the three ex-wives.

“I'm just being ... _stupid_.” she said, keeping her back to him. 

“In what way?” 

“Just...stuff.” she replied, motioning with an elbow in the general direction of her cell phone, which sat precariously near a hammer. 

Gibbs made a small sound of agreement as he made his way around the other side of the boat. Nearing the cell phone, he was glad to see it was still in working order – at least she hadn't picked up _that_ habit of his. He also noticed that she had apparently missed a few calls.

“Twenty seven missed calls?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking to her for an explanation. He knew it hadn't been him or anyone else at NCIS – she had a special work-related phone for that – so that only left a few options open.

“Your parents or your friends?” he asked her, resting his hip against the wooden table. A harsh laugh escaped from her throat.

“My parents haven't even realized I'm on the other side of the country yet.” she said, surprising him. Her parents had paid for her flight out here, after all. “I think they forgot I told them I was leaving for the summer, because they're still putting money in to my account for groceries and bills and things.”

That part, however, didn't really surprise him. From what he remembered about Sheila, the only time she'd noticed she had a kid, was when someone else showed an interest in her. The scene at his wife and daughter's wake had nailed that bit home. However, Gibbs had a sneaking suspicion that if Willow had mentioned exactly _who_ she was going to be spending the summer with, the rage Sheila Rosenberg would have let loose would have put his second ex-wife to shame.

“So, your friends.” Gibbs concluded, watching her closely for the slightest reaction.

“They called me yesterday, needed me to do something for them – left a bunch of messages.” she said, and Gibbs remained silent. He had his own thoughts on the matter, but would keep them to himself. “Dawn was the only one who asked how I was doing, and she sounded so bored and lonely in London, that I emailed her last night. Told her how I was, what I was up to. Where I was.”

“And now everyone's calling.” he surmised.

“It seems Dawn told Buffy, who then sent out the bat signal to Xander and Anya. Everyone's been calling all day.” she let out another half laugh. “Even Giles, who hates technology more than you do.”

Gibbs refrained from answering to that, not wanting to get off the subject at hand.

“What are they saying?” he asked.

“Why did I leave Sunnydale? Why am I in DC? Who are these 'relatives' I'm staying with? What's this summer job I have? Why didn't I tell them?”

“Why didn't you tell them?” he asked her after a minute. He desperately wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but she didn't need empty platitudes at the moment. Besides, he was curious as to why she hadn't said anything to her friends about coming here for the summer. He understood why Willow hadn't told anyone about coming to visit him during Spring Break – they hadn't seen each other since his wife and daughter's wake all those years ago, and she'd been uncertain of her reception. Gibbs honestly couldn't fault her for that. But he was understandably curious as to why she had kept silent when she'd decided to spend the summer with him.

“I just-” Willow paused, and Gibbs could see her trying to form an answer. “It's silly.”

“Why?” he said in a quiet voice, insistent but not pushing. He let her take her time, knowing that he wouldn't get any answers until she's figured them out in her own head first.

“At first, I was waiting for them to ask.” she said, her eyes still fixed to the smooth wood of the boat's frame. “If they'd asked about Spring Break, or my plans for the summer, I would have told them.”

“And later?” he prodded. Gibbs knew she hadn't talked or emailed her friends since she'd arrived here six weeks ago.

“I wanted to see how long it took them to realize I wasn't there.” It came out as a whisper. “And I wanted something that was mine, that didn't involve them.”

“I told you. It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid, Willow.” he said, finally moving around to stand in front of her. “Wanting your friends to be interested in your life is normal.” Seeing that she still wasn't looking at him, Gibbs lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “But you have to be willing to ask about their lives, too. It's a two-way street, Willow.”

“Yeah.” she said softly, looking slightly ashamed as she tried to avoid his eyes.

“Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but my advice is to pick up the phone and call them back. From everything you've told me about them, you've known them for a long time. Don't lose that because of a few unasked questions.”

“I guess.” Silent reigned again, as she rolled that around her brain for a time, before coming to some sort of decision. “They're going to yell.”

“So yell back.” he told her, a small smile on his face matching hers. “You don't let anyone at NCIS get away with that.”

“But these are my friends.” she reminded him.

“So?” At this point he was just teasing her and they both knew it. But Gibbs was just glad to see the sad look gone from her face.

Instead of a reply, she just gave him a narrow-eyed glare that she's apparently picked up from Shannon all those years ago, grabbed her phone from the table and went back up the stairs.

Once she was gone, Gibbs closed his eyes in relief at having dodged that bullet. Because if it had gone on any longer, he knew deep down in his gut that she would have started baking up a storm of cookies and brownies again.

And his reputation couldn't take that.


	19. Interrogation

"I saw her!" Kate announced, her quick strides bringing her across the forensic lab in little time.

"Saw who, Kate?" Abby asked, her attention never straying from the audio analysis she was running.

"The red head." Getting no response from Abby, Kate clarified. "Gibbs' red head."

That stopped the tech cold, her fingers freezing in mid-motion.

"Please tell me you mean 'picnic red head' and not 'convertible red head'."

"Oh yeah."

"Tell me more!" said Abby, spinning to face Kate, her face intent.

"I just saw her in the hall, talking to McGee."

"Our little McGeek's been holding out on me. Show me." announced Abby, pulling Kate along by the hand.

However, before reaching the door to the lab, they were blocked by the arrival of McGee.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, confused.

Redirecting her focus, Abby grabbed McGee by the tie and pulled him into the room.

"Talk." she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him her best 'Gibbs' look.

"What?"

"The girl you were just talking to, McGee." supplied Kate, and Abby could tell she was just as eager for answers.

"Who, Willow?"

Abby met Kate's eyes as she mouthed the word 'Willow' to the other woman.

"Who is she?"

"Why do you want to know?" Abby would be offended by the wary tone of his voice if she hadn't already trained him up to be scared of her.

"Tell me!"

"She's just an intern, Abby." he said, still sounding as confused as before. The again, he didn't know what she and Kate knew. "Would you calm down, already? What's she done to you?"

"Nothing. Who _is_ she?" she pressed, certain that he knew more than he was telling her.

"Abbbbyyyy." he said in a warning tone, and she knew she was losing ground. When Tim really put his mind to it, he could wiggle out of her grasp.

"McGee. We were just wondering who she is." said Kate, stepping in with a big smile on her face. Abby reminded herself to buy Kate something nice, because the other woman knew how to get information out of McGee. "What's her name? Where's she from? What's she like? That sort of thing."

"Oh, no!" said McGee, moving away from the two of them. "I'm not getting in the middle of whatever you have planned. She's a nice girl and I'm not going to let you terrorize her."

Now Abby was offended for multiple reasons.

"We're not planning anything, McGee." said Kate, moving towards him. "We just have some questions about the new girl. That's all."

Abby really needed to learn that whole 'how to interrogate with a great big smile' thing Kate had going. It was awesome. And it was working.

"She's just a summer intern, working in IT." he said, relenting under Kate's unwavering grin.

"So she goes to school around here?"

"No, she's from the west coast. I think she's just visiting for the summer, and ended up working here." McGee told them, his body and tone relaxing as he gave them what answers he could.

"Visiting? Visiting who?" Kate asked, pouncing on that tidbit of information before Abby could.

"I don't know. Her uncle, I think."

"Oh?" prompted Kate.

"Well, she said her uncle works for NCIS, so I assume that's who she's visiting." he said.

Abby felt herself freeze as everything slotted itself together. Kate turned and looked at her, their eyes meeting as they both came to the same conclusion.

"NO. WAY!"


	20. Thump

“Ooooohhhhhh.....” groaned Abby. She was slumped on her stool at her computer desk in the main lab, trying to resist the urge to bang her head on the flat metal in front of her. Repeatedly.

“It's not that bad, Abby.” said Kate, rubbing Abby on the back in an attempt to soothe her. McGee had made a quick getaway as soon as their backs were turned. “You couldn't have known.”

“But I should have known something was hinky. Gibbs doesn't _do_ picnics, especially with women.” she said, berating herself again. She prided herself on not making snap judgements until she had all the evidence, but what had she done? Just that. Even when Kate told her what she thought of Gibbs and this Willow's interactions, all she could see was someone horning in on her turf.

 _She_ was Gibbs' favourite girl. _She_ was the one who could almost always make him smile. And all she'd been able to see was someone surplanting her place. She'd reacted badly, that much she knew, but at least the only witness had been Kate.

“Still. You shouldn't beat yourself up about this, Abby.”

Another groan of woe was her only response.

“It's not like you did anything.” Kate reminded her.

“But I thought it! I was all ready to hate this person who was stealing my Gibbs, and it turns out I can't.” 

“Abby.”

“She's Gibbs' niece, Kate.” Abby said, trying to make Kate understand. “I can't hate her _because_ she's Gibbs' niece.”

And that pretty much said it all. Abby couldn't begrudge Gibbs any family connection, because until today, she'd thought he didn't have any. Well, except for the ex-wives, but they didn't count.

“She may not be his niece.” Kate said, and Abby appreciated the effort – really, she did – but they both knew different.

“Gibbs has a niece.” Abby said, as if repeating it enough times would make it any less real. Or more. “Even if she's not - you know - biologically, she is in every other way.”

With that, Abby let her head slump back to the cool metal of the desk.

“Why couldn't I hate her?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Well, you still could.” suggested Kate, and Abby didn't even bother to reply to that.

_Thump._

“I'm soooo stupid.”

_Thump._


	21. Lunch Time

“Is this seat taken?” asked a cheerful voice, pulling Willow out of her thoughts. Looking up, she was surprised to see none other than Agent Kate Todd.

“Uh-no?” Willow replied, not quite sure if there was a right answer to this. The field agents never sat with the support staff at lunches or breaks, mostly because they either ate at their desks or were out on a case. Today must be her unlucky day, though, because here was one such field agent, asking to sit at her table.

“Good,” answered Agent Todd, smiling brightly as she took the seat across from her. Willow was mildly frozen in place, watching as the other woman pulled out her lunch.

“So, I'm Kate,” she introduced herself, drawing Willow's attention back to her.

“Willow,” she said in reflex, still not sure what was going on.

“I know,” replied Kate, still smiling that wide smile, and Willow got a sinking feeling in her stomach. “McGee's mentioned you.”

Okay, that wasn't so surprising given that they'd spoken several times since she'd started work at NCIS. It didn't make her any less suspicious, though, because she'd seen this story. Heck, she'd _lived_ it. Popular girl finds shy, quiet girl, minding her own business. Makes friends with shy, quiet girl. Then proceeds to tease and torment shy, quiet girl until she runs away in tears, and for years afterwards.

It was Cordelia all over again.

“I actually have some work I still need to do-” Willow said, struggling to gather up her food in preparation of a hasty departure. She refused to go through that again, especially here and now. She loved this job – this place – too much to start hating it; to start dreading each morning, working herself into an ulcer over the comments and jibes she would be subject to. 

It wasn't going to happen again.

“No, wait. Don't go,” said Kate, putting a hand out to stop her. “I just wanted to talk – get to know you.”

Willow saw the sincere look on Kate's face, and paused. Could she really be sincere in her desire to get to know her? 

The real question was, Willow thought, was _she_ willing to put herself out there, on the chance that Kate was being honest? This wasn't school, Kate wasn't Cordelia, and there wasn't a Xander and Jesse around the corner to make her smile through her tears. All she had was Gibbs.

Gibbs who would probably shoot anyone who made her cry like that.

Narrowing her eyes, Willow looked directly at Kate.

“This isn't a pity lunch, is it?” she asked, gratified at the way Kate's eyes widened in shock.

“No. No way!” she denied, and Willow decided to trust her, just a little. “You just looked like you could use a girl friend.”

“Huh?” Willow didn't think she'd heard that quite right.

“You work in an office full of young, geeky computer nerds – _male_ , young, geeky computer nerds,” said Kate wryly. “you need another woman to talk to, every now and then.”

 _That_ Willow could understand. It had been the same way before Buffy came into her life, just her, Jesse and Xander, and the novelty of having another girl to talk to had made Willow giddy for weeks afterwards.

Looking over Kate's shoulder, Willow saw those same geeky computer nerds finally enter the large lunch room. However, any hope she'd had for a rescue from the scariest female agent at NCIS was dashed as first one, then the others, noticed who she was sitting with. They all froze for about five seconds, then scattered like the rats they were.

Cowards. No rescue from that corner.

Slumping in defeat, Willow resigned herself to an awkward lunch with a woman who could verbally slam the walking hormone (Agent DiNozzo), go head to head with the most stubborn of marines (Gibbs) and become best friends with the lab tech that had most of NCIS nervous, if not outright scared (Abby).

It was going to be a long hour.


	22. First Meetings

The first time Willow met Abby Sciuto, she was laughing madly at a story Kate had been telling her, involving her her three brothers, a can of purple paint and the neighbour's dog.

It was only the third time they'd had lunch together, though they'd shared several more breaks and random conversations, and Willow was just starting to feel comfortable in Kate's presence. She'd started to relax and open up about her life beyond the confines of NCIS headquarters, happy to have someone to talk to who was interested in her life in a way she hadn't experienced before.

Then they were interrupted by the arrival of a dark haired, dark clothed, high heeled, collar wearing figure, who slumped down next to Willow, face first into the table.

“Hi, Abby,” Kate greeted, totally nonplussed by the abrupt, overly dramatic arrival.

“Why do men suck so much?” Abby moaned into the table, rolling her head back and forth.

“What did McGee do this time?” Kate asked primly, and Willow could tell she was trying to hold back a smile.

“The little MIT, rat fink refused to go and get me a Caf-Pow. And I really needed it, too,” she whined, rolling her head to the side to see Willow for the first time. “Hi.”

“Hello,” said Willow, biting her lips together in a desperate attempt to follow Kate's lead and keep a straight face.

“Are you Willow?” Abby asked. Willow felt the woman's gaze sharpen on her, and wondered if she'd picked it up from her uncle.

At her nod, Abby pulled herself upright in the chair, and genuine smile gracing her face as she looked Willow up and down.

“Well, I finally get to meet you,” she said, and Willow was extremely pleased to hear how happy the lab tech sounded about that. Kate had said Abby was anxious to meet her in person, but had been tied to the lab for the last little while.

“Cookie?” Willow offered, sliding a few towards Abby. They were more of the leftovers from her baking bonanza earlier in the summer. Willow still winced internally at the memory, and loved her uncle even more for having put up with her crazed need for baked goods – the freezer in the garage was still mostly full.

“These look familiar,” said Abby, taking one of the proffered cookies, smiling as she bit into it.

“Willow baked them,” announced Kate, taking a bite of her own pilfered baked good.

“So, you're Gibbs' secret cookie supplier,” drawled Abby, bouncing her head as she smiled.

Willow just smiled and blushed.

~!~

The first time Willow met Tony DiNozzo, she didn't really meet him so much as acknowledge him in passing. 

He'd had the unfortunate timing to come find Kate in the lunch room, just seconds after Abby had regaled them with the tale of the latest co-ed to turn Tony down. So it was completely understandable for him to look totally lost as the three of them laughed uncontrollably in the face of his greeting.

“Boss just got a call, Kate.” he said, looking at the three of them suspiciously.

“I'm coming – 'Sex Machine',” replied Kate, emphasizing the last part with finger quotes and a little wiggle, setting the three of them off again.

DiNozzo's glare encompassed them all before he stormed out of the lunch room.

Kate followed more sedately, but Willow could tell she was still giggling as she went.

Willow grinned for the rest of the day.

~!~

The first time Willow met Director Morrow, Willow just ducked her head and blushed.

Gibbs had introduced her as 'Willow Rosenberg, my niece'.

The pride in his voice gave her a happy feeling for years to come.

~!~

The first time Willow met Ducky.....well, that's another story.


	23. A Bad Day Can Only Get Worse

Tony DiNozzo was having a bad day. An early call to a gruesome crime scene had only been the beginning. A series of small, irritating incidences had followed, ending with the fishing expedition Gibbs had sent both him and McGee on.

Wading through seven dumpsters worth of garbage was not his idea of a fun afternoon. Especially with McGee. At least they'd found the murder weapon, so the day hadn't been a total waste.

Arriving at his desk, he threw his backpack with more force than necessary, feeling only mildly better – he'd only had time for a quick shower, and could still feel the grime seeping into his skin.

“Please tell me that smell is worth it,” commented Kate from her desk, drawing his attention.

“What, I showered!”

“You know, there's this thing floating around called 'soap', Tony,” she said, smiling that infuriating smile of hers. “you may want to look in to it.”

“I _did_ , Kate,” he said through clenched teeth. “it's not my fault there's a heat wave and a garbage strike at the same time.”

“Aww, poor Tony,” she cooed, making him want to throw something. A small snicker from the direction of Gibbs' desk drew his attention, almost missing Kate's next question, “did you at least find something useful?”

“Yeah, Abby's working on it now,” he replied distractedly, moving slowly so he could see who would dare to sit at Gibbs' desk, because there was no way that snicker had come from Gibbs – or anyone male.

There was a cute, young red head occupying Gibbs' territory, doing something to the Boss' computer.

His day was looking up. 

“Well, hello there,” he smiled, sidling up to the desk as he turned on the charm. “what's a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a place like this?”

She seemed to freeze at that, fingers poised over the keyboard as she slowly turned her head to look at him.

“Excuse me?” she said, eyes wide in surprise.

“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo at your service,” he said, hands in his pockets, leaning against the desk separating them in a deliberate way. “I didn't catch your name.”

All he got in return were a few inarticulate sounds, before she blushed bright red.

“No one. No one important,” she said in a rush, whipping her head back to the monitor in front of her. Tony noticed that she seemed to be typing at a more frantic pace than before, her hands shaking slightly. He also thought he saw her send a desperate glance over in Kate's direction, but he couldn't be sure.

The blush was enticing, though.

“You must be new,” he said smiling widely, glimpsing the partially hidden ID card – not a visitor's pass. “because I know all the attractive women in this building.”

Her fingers faltered slightly on the keys, but that was her only tell that she'd heard him.

“Actually, should you be messing with Gibbs' computer?” he asked suddenly as the thought occurred to him. 

He almost physically recoiled at the look she gave him in return, but held his ground; it was reminiscent of the ones Kate gave him, that clearly said _'You were dropped on your head as a child'_.

“It's her job, Tony,” said McGee as he came up behind Tony and headed to his desk. “Hello, Willow.”

“Hello, Agent McGee,” greeted the red head – Willow.

“Probie,” Tony reprimanded, keeping his smiling face turned towards Willow. “you never told me you knew Willow, here.”

“I don't tell you a lot of things, Tony,” answered McGee, sounding slightly smug. Tony refrained from narrowing his eyes at the tone; he'd have to do something about that – later.

“As Senior Field Agent, it's my _duty_ to know everything you do, Probie,” announced Tony, stressing the 'senior field agent' part. He really needed to start keeping a closer eye on McGee – he was getting too uppity and disrespectful.

“Willow's the summer intern for IT,” said McGee after a moment. The tone he used was of more interest to Tony than the pause, because it clearly stated 'I know something you don't know'.

That was unacceptable, but again, he'd deal with McGee later.

“Really,” Tony drawled out, making sure to smile extra wide at Willow, drawing her attention back to him, “so has anyone shown you where they sell the really good coffee, because there's this great little coffee shop around the corner that makes a fantastic latte – the perfect combination of espresso and hot milk, topped by the most exquisite foam – I could show you if you like-”

He broke off his invitation when he saw her eyes go wide and her lips part in genuine surprise – like she hadn't ever been invited to coffee. Not that 'coffee' for him was the same as 'coffee' for everyone else, but that was part of his charm.

It wasn't only her surprise that stopped him, though. He could _feel_ Kate's glare nailing him in the side of the head, and the frown coming from McGee, off to his side.

But then he saw Willow's eyes, which had been fixed on his face, flick to some spot off to his left, and Tony felt his blood run cold, because now he could feel it.

The prickly sensation on the back of his neck, the twitch between his shoulder blades and the laser blue stare that was currently boring its way through the back of his head.

Gibbs was behind him.

“Hi, Boss,” he greeted, turning around with a forced grin. He was waiting for the slap to the back of the head, but it never came. That, combined with the fierce glare from the ex-Marine, told Tony just how badly he'd screwed up, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He'd flirted and asked out women at work before, and Gibbs had never cared – what was it about this intern that made this time any different?

“Do you have my murder weapon, DiNozzo?” Gibbs barked out after a full sixty seconds of full-on 'Gibbs Glare'.

“Abby's running it now, Boss.” he said, trying to unobtrusively inch his way back to his desk.

“Good.” Gibbs said in that same angry voice. “The victim had a girlfriend – find her!”

The glare followed him all the way back to his desk, where he used one of his monitors as a shield between him and Gibbs, trying to ignore a smirking Kate in the desk across from him.

“So how does this work?” 

For a second, Tony thought the question was directed at him, but realized that Gibbs had never used that tone of voice with him or any other agent. Chancing a glance over the top of his monitor, Tony saw he was talking to Willow. He was bent over her shoulder, watching as she pointed to something on one of the computer screens while explaining in a low voice.

A quick look from Gibbs had him back on his 'task', but half his attention was focussed on the bits of conversation he could hear from Gibbs' desk. She was apparently explaining the new software she'd installed on his system, that let him transfer information between his phone, PDA and computer. Most agents had that same software, though very few used it to its full potential.

He'd personally thought there'd be ice skating in Hell before Gibbs ever joined the rest of the tech-literate.

“Are you sure no one will be able to hack this stuff?” Tony heard Gibbs ask. It was a valid question, one most agents had when it came to their personal notes and contacts. The usual answer involved techno-babble about passwords and firewalls, with the additional comments that this system was still more secure than their handwritten notebooks had ever been.

“Agent McGee and Abby combined couldn't hack this sucker in under a day without a supercomputer and some super good luck,” That surprised Tony enough for him to risk the wrath of Gibbs again. All he saw for his efforts was a smug intern and an equally smug Gibbs. A quick look at McGee showed him a disgruntled NCIS agent whose abilities had been impugned, and Tony figured if it had been anyone else's phone, McGee would have stolen it to prove he _could_ hack it.

“Is that it?” Gibbs asked, and Tony could see him turning the phone over in his hands.

“Umhmm,” murmured Willow, clearing off the desk of non-Gibbs litter.

“New phone.” Gibbs commented.

“Tougher construction. Should withstand even you.” confirmed Willow, and again Tony risked Gibbs' glares to see what was going on, though Kate and McGee were, too, so he didn't feel so bad.

They were staring at each other; rather, Gibbs was using his ' _what_ did you say?!' , narrow-eyed stare. He couldn't tell what Willow was doing back, but whatever it was was a good counterpoint, because after a minute Gibbs' lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile which he held back.

“You almost done for the day?” Gibbs asked, his face relaxing as he let the matter drop.

“Give me twenty minutes?” answered Willow, moving from behind Gibbs' desk. A confirmation from Gibbs, and then she was gone, leaving a confused Tony behind.

Seeing that he was once again the focus of Gibbs' attention, Tony slumped behind his monitor, crouching low to avoid the gaze. The rapid typing of his keyboard provided good cover for him as he tried to sort out what had just happened.

A glance at McGee showed the same confusion, which soothed Tony somewhat.

However, when he glanced at Kate, he was arrested by the sight of one of the few things guaranteed to cause his blood to boil – and not in the good way.

Kate was smirking. At him.

She knew something and wasn't telling.

This meant war!


	24. A Perfectly Ordinary Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're now into actual episodes – SWAK (Sealed With A Kiss) in this case. I'll try to keep everything clear for those who haven't seen the episodes, but tell me if I'm skipping something important.

Willow was working on a perfectly ordinary task, on a perfectly ordinary day, when everything went to Hell.

She'd dealt with vampires, demons, apocalypses and even evil Watchers, but nothing even remotely close to this.

“We're evacuating the building. Everyone out the emergency exits immediately.”

She'd spent enough time watching the training and emergency preparedness videos, that Willow knew what she should do. However, they didn't prepare her for the adrenaline and fear that suddenly spiked through her. NCIS didn't have unannounced fire drills or evacuations – they always got an email or a warning days before.

A thunk and whirring sound drew her attention to the ceiling.

“They just shut off the air,” said someone in the room, and Willow was glad to know she wasn't the only one scared.

“Do we know what's going on?” she asked out loud as they all made a hasty exit down the stairs and out into the bright morning sunlight. This was not Sunnydale, and there was no Slayer around the corner to come and save the day from whatever danger there was. 

“They wouldn't shut down the ventilation unless there was a fire or...”

“Or what?” she asked Jason, the only one who seemed remotely calm. Or maybe it just looked that way to her panicking eyes.

“Or they don't want to risk spreading something to the rest of the building.”

“Biological attack,” whispered Willow. Theory and what-ifs had just become reality, and it scared her more than she thought.

Shading her eyes, she looked around the mass of milling people, searching for one head in particular, cursing her own short stature. “Can you see Agent Gibbs?”

“I'll go see what I can find out,” Jason told her after a moment, disappearing into the crowd.

“Oh God, do you think we're all going to die?” asked a vaguely hysterical voice. Turning, Willow found it was another IT tech – Andy – that had spoken. He had the wide eyed, desperate look that she knew from Sunnydale; the look people wore when their carefully constructed views of the world came crashing down in the face of reality.

“They wouldn't have evacuated us if we were, Andy,” she said, a hand on his arm the only form of comfort she could offer. “We're out here, because they didn't want to expose anyone else.”

“That means we're fine, moron,” added Dale, another of the IT guys, but Willow didn't have it in her to be irked about his rudeness. Looking around quickly at the faces of the other guys she worked with, Willow realized they all had some level of panic and fear in their eyes. Dale being Dale would only enforce the belief that everything was fine and under control.

When Dale wasn't being his normal pissy, sarcastic self, that's when people started to worry.

“See? So, while we wait, let's just find a place to sit and enjoy the beautiful morning?” Willow suggested, ushering them towards a slight hill in the grass. “You could all do with a little more sun.”

Ignoring the mild grumbling from the mostly-pale group, Willow was glad to see that more groups of NCIS staff were doing the same thing. A number of people were taking the entire situation in stride, and their calm helped to reinforce the overall tone of everyone there.

Now, if only she could find out where her uncle and her friends were.

A beeping at her waist drew her attention, and she saw a text message from Jason.

Reading it, all the blood froze in her veins and her hands trembled.

_'Letter with white powder opened in Gibbs' office.'_


	25. Helpless

Willow looked around the empty office, and felt alone and scared. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years, but couldn't help it. Her uncle was the recipient of a biological attack – at NCIS headquarters, no less – could potentially die, and she had no way to talk to him. No way to find out if he was safe or infected or just raging mad. She hoped it was option one, prayed it wasn't option two, and knew instinctively that no matter what, he was certainly option three.

Still, she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to reassure herself that he was okay and alive, and would stay that way. After so long with Buffy, saving the world from demons and the like, she wasn't used to sitting on the side lines.

Everyone else had gone home hours ago, shortly after they'd been let back into the building, but Willow had stayed. How could she go back to the house she shared with Gibbs, when he wasn't there? When he was here, possibly dying from the stupid plague?!

She wanted to do something – anything – yet was helpless in this kind of situation. Willow didn't like it, but she didn't have a role to play this time. Sitting around, staring into the dark corners of the IT room, wasn't helpful either.

Pulling out her cell phone, Willow turned it on and scrolled through the numbers, looking for one in particular. She hesitated for less than a second before pressing the button that would connect her.

It rang less than once before it was answered by an anxious voice.

 _“Willow, my God, are you OK?”_ he asked by way of greeting.

“Yeah...Why wouldn't I be?” she asked him, confused.

 _“It's all over the news. Something about an attack at the Washington Navy Yard....You weren't answering your phone!”_ he said accusingly, _“I was_ this _close to getting the next plane to Washington!”_

Willow felt herself smile at that, feeling her heart swell a little.

“You'd do that? Fly across the country just for me?”

_“In a heartbeat.”_

That was her best friend. That was Xander.

And with only a hint of a wobble in her voice, began to describe her day of Hell.


	26. The Waiting Game

Jimmy Palmer, the assistant coroner, had just stopped by, requesting new cell phones for her uncle and his team. Once that task was done, Willow found herself with nothing to do. Again.

It had been a recurring problem since they'd been let back into the building hours ago, having determined that the threat had been contained to the third floor. The fast acting team of her uncle's had prevented the rest of the building from being exposed to whatever the white powder had been. Had, in fact, prevented people on the same _floor_ from being exposed.

_BIOATTACK PROCEDURES IN EFFECT – THIS IS NOT A DRILL_

That stupid message scrolling across every light board in the building didn't help her peace of mind, either.

She was tempted to go see Abby in Forensics, but knew from 'sources' that she was busy trying to find out who had sent the infectious letter to NCIS.

The letter that had contained infectious – and still live – bacteria. _Yersinia pestis_ to be exact. The plague.

The pneumonic plague as a weapon of mass destruction was something Willow had never even considered before. Sure, she'd seen syphillis as a curse, but that had been easily fixed; break the curse, syphillis gone. 

But Agent DiNozzo wouldn't get well nearly that quickly. If at all.

This entire situation was both familiar and not. Bad guys holding someone hostage to get what they want – not so new. She, herself, had been held hostage multiple times, the most memorable being just before high school graduation by Sunnydale's late mayor. What was new, however, was _how_.

Agent DiNozzo had been infected with a genetically altered form of the _Y. pestis_ microbe that caused the plague – an antibiotic resistant version of the plague. His life was being held for ransom, the ransom being the release of information about a two year old rape case that had gone cold. For some reason, someone thought NCIS had covered up the findings, and they wanted it released to the public at large.

And there was nothing she could do to help. It couldn't be slayed or researched, and magic couldn't make it go away. She felt helpless and didn't like it one bit.

“Willow, you're still here?” 

Willow turned around in surprise, seeing Jason standing in the office doorway. He'd changed his clothes since this morning, so he had obviously gone home – something she couldn't claim.

“Yeah, just trying to get some work done,” she said feebly, wondering if he noticed how weak her voice sounded. 

“You should go home,” he told her. Willow could see the sense in that, because it was really late, or really early, depending on how you looked at it.

But still, “and do what?” she asked. If she went back home, she knew she'd spend the entire time obsessing over what was going on here.

Jason just looked at her for a minute, and she thought she saw understanding flit across his face.

“Well, since you're here, you can help me,” he told her, taking off his jacket. “Most of the third floor and MTAC can't get at their equipment until the third floor is cleared, so we have to get backup systems and consoles working, allowing temporary access.”

Willow followed him as he left the office, going down the hall to the Vault.

“Then, once they open the floor back up, we have to replace all the computers and other electronics in Gibbs' office, after striping the information from the hard drives before they're burned.”

“Busy day,” commented Willow, happy to have something to do.

At least it would keep her mind occupied until she got to see Gibbs with her own eyes.


	27. Five Minutes

He wasn't going to make it. He'd told Cassy Yates, the visiting NCIS agent, that he'd meet her downstairs in five minutes, but there was no way he was going to make that deadline. A quick call on Tony's cell phone, and he'd realized that Willow hadn't been home since yesterday morning.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

Once he'd changed out of the blue, 'teletubby' hazmat suit, he'd gone searching for her and wasn't surprised to see her working on a computer, looking tired and wrung out. The only other person in the room was the head of IT, Jason Chalmers – who looked ten times better than Willow did. He, apparently, had had the good sense to go home and sleep the night before, though Gibbs understood why Willow hadn't done the same.

“Willow?” he called quietly. Her head snapped up, and once their eyes met, Gibbs was glad he'd come in search of her. An instant later, she was up and across the room, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

“I was so worried,” she whispered back, and Gibbs felt bad for not calling her earlier. He still had to get used to there being someone who cared if he came home with an bullet wound, or at all. “Are you alright?”

Gibbs realized he didn't have much time to lose, and a quick jerk of the head in Jason's direction gave them some privacy.

“Hey, hey. I'm fine,” he told her, tilting her head back so he could meet her eyes. Her worried and watery eyes.

“Is everyone else?” she asked hesitantly, and Gibbs realized that while information was travelling fast throughout the building, the _correct_ news was moving much slower.

“Everyone's fine – except Tony,” he said, watching as some of the tension left her body. 

“And Kate?” she asked cautiously, making him realize how close she'd gotten to his agent.

“All the tests came back negative, except for Tony's,” he said. He hoped she would help spread that information around, as it seemed rumours and speculation were running rampant.

“I've only been getting little bits of information, and I never know what's true or not,” she said with a wobble in her voice. “Do you know how worried I've been? No one's telling us anything, and the stories are getting scarier each time. All the hazmat suits aren't helping, either. I was _this_ close to hacking into the security cameras or Abby's computer or-or- _something_!”

Gibbs just sighed, irritated with himself for not realizing Willow would be worried.

“Must have been hard to resist,” he joked, after a moment. A small smile graced his lips when a slap to the ribs was her only response.

“I don't have a lot of time,” he told her, hugging her tightly. At this point, he couldn't say if it was more for his benefit or hers, but decided it didn't matter. “Why don't you go home and try to get some sleep?”

That got a reaction out of her, if nothing else.

“I'm not going home until you are,” she told him, pulling away to stare him down with a look he'd first seen with Shannon, and become used to seeing with Willow. It was the _'If you think you can make me, try it.'_ look.

“You need to get some rest,” he argued.

“Like I'm going to get any sleep – I'll just be sitting at home, worrying,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “At least here I've got stuff to keep me busy.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, 

“I don't care if they've irradiated every living organism within a two mile radius of your office – you're all still getting new computers,” she said, making it sound like her decision and not standard procedure. “You're also getting new carpeting and office furniture, just in case.”

This, again, was standard procedure, because UV lamps only killed the bugs it could see. Anything hidden by even the smallest piece of paper, could still potentially be viable.

“Is that really safe?” he asked in concern, motioning to the disassembled computers scattered around the room. _Y. pestis_ could still be hiding in the equipment and he didn't want her exposed to that.

“These are the new computers. We only needed the data from the hard drives, and that was transferred over by some guy in the basement dressed in one of the bubble suits,” she told him, again with the eye rolling.

“Don't you need to be catching this guy?” she asked him, frowning.

“I was on my way out.”

“Well, go and get him,” she told him, pushing him in the direction of the door.

“Uncle Jethro?” she called out before he could turn into the hallway. He turned, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Make them pay.”

He answered her the only way he could – with a deadly smile he knew she would understand.

He would make them regret ever daring to mess with his team.


	28. House Call

Ducky shifted uncomfortably in front of the door, wondering if he should knock harder. It was times like these that he wished Gibbs would invest in an actual doorbell, which could be heard all through the house, even that dark basement he spent too much time in.

He raised his fist again, already assembling the rather irate lecture he would deliver to the other man, when the door opened and all his thoughts fled him.

Instead of the familiar face of his old friend, Donald Mallard was presented with a rather young – and rather pretty – red head. She looked vaguely familiar though he couldn't place her, but she apparently knew him. She froze for an instant, eyes going wide, mouth opening as if to say something, before slamming her mouth shut with a distinct clack.

“Dr..Dr Mallard,” she greeted, seeming to pull herself together quickly. “What are you doing here?”

She blushed as she suddenly realized how that sounded, and Ducky let out a delighted chuckle.

“I came by to see Agent Gibbs. This is the right house?” he said, making it sound like a statement.

“Oh, yes – he's just upstairs,” she said, blinking up at him as he stood on the front porch.

Silence stretched between them for several long seconds.

“May I come in?” he asked gently, trying desperately to keep the smile off his face. Something told him it wouldn't be appreciated.

Her face flooded with red once again as she hastily stepped aside and motioned him in.

“I'll just....get him,” she said, moving around him to practically run up the stairs.

Ducky took the time to try and figure out where he knew her from – and what her relation to Jethro was. He knew the man enough to know that she wouldn't be in his house, answering his door, unless she lived here. And Jethro didn't invite just anyone to stay with him.

He took a look around the house, noticing the differences since he was here last. There were more jackets in the closet, more shoes – female shoes – next to the door, and extra sets of keys on the key rack. Moving further from the entryway, Ducky took a look into the living room, and was surprised to see a laptop and several files scattered across the coffee table and couch. The blue flowered mug next to the laptop had traces of a dark liquid he was fairly certain wasn't coffee.

The scene was most definitely _not_ Gibbs, especially the laptop. The man only used computers at work because he had to, he wouldn't willingly bring one home if he could avoid it. Ducky's intuition was telling him that this was all the work of the young woman who was obviously living with Gibbs, but for the life of him, Ducky couldn't figure out who she was.

The sound of bodies moving down the stairs pulled his attention away from the odd scene of working-at-home. Turning to greet his friend, Ducky noticed that Gibbs had recently gotten out of the shower, his hair still damp from the water. He didn't blame him – after spending that many hours inside a Hazmat suit, he always needed to feel clean again. It was an interesting psychosomatic reaction, he's always thought – how the mind still felt 'contaminated' or 'dirty' after spending time in a sealed environment. The conscious, logical mind knew that the contamination or infectious agent was on the outside, but that didn't stop the unconscious mind from demanding a cleansing.

“Ducky, what brings you by?” asked Gibbs.

“I thought you could use some company,” he told him, holding up the bottle of eleven year old scotch he'd brought with him. “Though perhaps I was mistaken?”

It had become an unspoken tradition over the years, that Ducky would show up with an excellent bottle of alcohol after a difficult case that hit closer to home for Gibbs, and the two of them would proceed to plough through the bottle. They would both regret it the next day, but that didn't stop them the next time.

Gibbs just looked at him closely, and Ducky was sure the other man saw that this wasn't simply a tradition for him today. Ducky sometimes needed the companionship as much as Gibbs did, and this was one of those times.

“Nah. Come on in,” he said, motioning towards the kitchen with his head.

Ducky hesitated, looking pointedly at the red head behind Gibbs who was looking slightly nervous.

“Oh, Ducky, this is Willow, my niece,” he introduced, moving out of the way was Ducky offered his hand, trying to hide his surprise. “This is Dr Mallard.”

“I know, Uncle Jethro,” she replied with an eye roll that made Ducky smile.

“Have we met before?” he asked, that niggling sense that he knew her was growing.

“Willow's the summer IT intern at NCIS,” Gibbs said. Anyone who didn't know Gibbs-speak, wouldn't detect the note of smug pride in his voice, but Ducky was well versed in the language. So was his niece, apparently, as she blushed slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“So that would be your equipment in the other room,” Ducky said, handing Gibbs the bottle so he could remove his coat.

“I can work somewhere else...” she offered, blushing slightly in embarrassment. 

“I don't see why you're working right now, anyway. You're off until Monday,” Gibbs said, the mild annoyance coming through loud and clear.

“I'm on call this weekend,” she said, sounding resigned to the argument. Ducky didn't doubt for a minute that they'd had this conversation several times today, though from the looks of it, Willow had been the victor each time. “Michael's sick, and all the others are too freaked out to volunteer, right now.”

Ducky raised a brow at Gibbs, wondering for the first time how the others at NCIS had dealt with the recent biological attack in their workplace. By the look on Gibbs' face, not well. If the IT department was that nervous, then other departments were the same.

Willow must have seen the frown on Gibbs' face, because she added, “Don't worry. If I'm called in, you're driving me anyway, so you can glare them all into submission for me while I fix their problems. Ok?”

The smile on her face said she knew she'd won, and Ducky barely held back a chuckle. It was rare to see Gibbs interacting in this way, and it was refreshing. 

“Willow – you wouldn't happen to be the same one that Abigail's been talking about?” Ducky asked suddenly, as several pieces slotted in to place.

“Uh-huh,” she smiled, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Go back to work,” said Gibbs, “We'll be in the kitchen.”

Willow just gave him a look, before heading back into the living room, leaving the two men alone.

Gibbs motioned to the kitchen with the bottle, and Ducky took the invitation, following behind him.

He stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, as something occurred to him.

“Jethro, you never mentioned you had any family!”


	29. Guarded Secrets

“Jethro, you never mentioned you had any family!”

Gibbs turned his back on his friend, using the excuse of getting some glasses down to collect his thoughts. He wasn't actively trying to keep Willow's relationship to him a secret, but he also wasn't going to go around shouting about his past to everyone who asked.

Ducky didn't know about Shannon and Kelly. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part to keep them a secret, but even after all this time, it still hurt to think about them. Willow's presence had helped him more than his three ex-wives had, but maybe that was because she didn't need to be told. Willow had lived through their lives - and their deaths. She knew it was still difficult for him to remember them, and didn't push him to talk about it. It was a trait Shannon had had, which he didn't appreciate fully until after she was gone.

But his life now, with the people he had surrounded himself with, they had no clue about his first wife and daughter. He didn't talk about his life before NCIS as anything other than vague references and Marine anecdotes, and no one but Willow had known him then, either.

He'd come to accept that by allowing Willow into his professional life, that there would come a time when he would have to actually talk about his past, but this wasn't it. After the past few days of bioattacks and plague at NCIS, along with the all-to-real possibility of losing his best agent, Gibbs wasn't ready to open up the still-raw wound that was Shannon and Kelly's deaths. He'd become pretty good at training everyone he came into contact with, to not delve into his personal life, but Ducky was different. The man had been his first real friend at NCIS, and had seen him through all three of his marriages. And divorces.

If anyone deserved the truth, it was Ducky.

Just not tonight.

“Nope,” he said, turning back to Ducky and handing him one of the glasses.

“Are you going to tell me?” asked Ducky, pouring a generous splash of alcohol into each glass.

Gibbs looked at Ducky for a long moment, before saying, “Nope.”

"We've been friends for almost fifteen years, Jethro," he chided. Gibbs could hear the curiosity and wheedling underlying the words, urging him to open up.

"She's been family longer."

Ducky looked back at him, in that considering way he had. Gibbs could see the questions racing through his head, and wondered if he would give in to his curiosity, or let it be.

Finally, Ducky looked away, taking a sip of the scotch.

“This always reminds me of my third year in medical school.” he began. “My classmates and I would sneak up on the roof with a bottle of stolen alcohol. Michael O'Donnell would bring a different bottle every week – we never asked where he got it...”

As Ducky regaled him with a tale from his youth, Gibbs just took a drink from his own glass and smiled.


	30. A Plague of Irritations

The pounding on the front door was what woke him, but the loud voice of his boss through the door was what got him out of bed. As Tony pulled his tired and aching body out from under the covers and across the apartment, he wondered what Gibbs was doing here. Gibbs was usually already at work at this time of the day, plus there was the fact that Tony was still on medical leave. In fact, he'd just gotten out of the hospital a few hours earlier, managing to make it home in time to collapse face first on his bed. 

He wasn't in the mood for company – especially the Gibbs variety – but didn't see a way out of it. Gibbs had a key in case of emergencies and Tony not answering the door when he was fresh from the hospital and a case of the plague was an emergency in the other man's book. 

Shuffling his way to the door, Tony tried not to groan at the protest his body was putting up at the demands he was making of it. Opening the door, he tried vainly to not look how he felt, but by the frown on Gibbs face as he took a look at him, he failed miserably. 

“Why didn't you say you were getting released today?” he asked, moving past Tony into the apartment. He almost closed the door when a second body moved in to his apartment behind Gibbs. It was the intern – Willow – from NCIS, and Tony had a scary moment where he saw his life flash in front of his eyes. It had taken days before Gibbs had stopped looking at him with Tony's death in his gaze, and he had no desire to repeat it. He still had no idea what he'd done wrong, but figured staying well away from Willow was the safest bet. 

“Uh, Gibbs?” he asked, watching the pair of them warily. 

“Willow's going to be taking care of you today,” said Gibbs, sending a look at Tony that he was too tired to translate. 

“O-kay...” he said, still not sure what was up. He didn't need a caretaker, but he wasn't up to arguing with Gibbs today – or any time in the near future. 

“Abby's processing evidence, Kate still has a cold, McGee would let you walk all over him and you're not up to dealing with Ducky right now,” said Gibbs, moving to close the door behind Tony. “Willow's offered to keep an eye on you for the day.” 

“I don't need a babysitter, Gibbs,” he tried to argue. 

“She's here to keep an eye on you, not hand feed you, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs, frowning at him. 

Tony looked at him for a moment, and realized he really wasn't up to arguing with Gibbs about anything. In fact, all this activity was more than he could deal with right now. He felt the room sway, and was surprised when he blinked and saw Gibbs at his side, holding him up. His legs felt wobbly and weak, all the energy draining out of his body in seconds. 

“We need to get you into bed,” said a soft voice, surprising Tony. He looked to the other side and saw Willow was supporting him as well. He must be in even worse shape than he thought because he didn't have the energy to even come up with a single innuendo for that. 

“Okay,” he said, any and all fight leaving his body. 

Things became blurry after that. Waking several hours later, he had a vague recollection of hands maneuvering him into his bedroom. 

He lay in bed for a time, drifting in and out of sleep until a quiet ringing from the living room pulled him into full consciousness. In a way, it was nice knowing that he had someone to rely on if he needed it – even if it was a stranger. 

_”...quiet all day,”_ a voice drifted to him from the next room. It had been Willow's phone he realized, because the extension in the bedroom hadn't rung and he'd turned his cell phone off when he'd gotten out of the hospital. 

_”Don't worry about it. I have a net connection so I'm good.”_

She must be working from here instead of from NCIS. He still wondered who she was, but hadn't had much time to dig into the mystery that was the summer intern before he'd opened the plague-filled letter. She was connected to Gibbs, that much he'd guessed from that one brief meeting, but nothing else. He doubted they were involved, because while Gibbs had a definite thing for red heads, Tony was fairly confident that his boss wouldn't go for someone half his age. Besides, he didn't get the 'involved' vibe off them. 

A friend's relative on the other hand, he could totally see. It explained everything from their familiarity to Gibbs' protectiveness. 

_”You working late tonight?....I want to know if I should order in or not.”_

Okay, that put a kink in his theory. That really didn't sound like 'friends' talk. 

_”He has even less in his fridge than you do.”_

Definitely not a 'friends' conversation. Had he been wrong about Gibbs? 

_”Okay, I'll see you in a few hours, Uncle Jethro.”_

Tony lay in shock for a minute, willing his brain to process what he'd just discovered. Willow was Gibbs' niece. It might be more of an honourary thing because he'd never heard Gibbs refer to any family, but that didn't make it any less real. It also explained everything, including Gibbs' protectiveness and silent warnings to stay away from her. 

And those were warning he was planning to take to heart, because Gibbs could – and would – dismember him if he or anyone else acted inappropriately to Willow. 

Tony smiled at this latest development, as several clues over the last months clicked into place, filling in the empty places in a larger puzzle. 

Gibbs did have a heart, after all. 

It was kind of sweet, in an ex-Marine kind of way.


	31. Recovery

The Great Sun Monster was about to close its jaws around Tony when he woke up with a jolt. It took him a moment to realize that the blankets cocooning his body were, in fact, not the grizzled hands of the previously thought of monster, and that the suffocating heat was his own body heat, not some impossible creature that wanted to eat him.

He really needed to lay off those scifi movies.

Fighting his way free from the makeshift blanket prison, Tony slowly stretched out the stiff muscles, happy to find that a large portion of the aches and stiffness were from sleeping too long in one position, instead of the new and familiar 'plague related injuries'.

The light coming through the curtained window told him it was early evening, letting him know that at least a few hours had passed since his last waking period. He actually felt relatively well-rested for the first time since he'd opened that stupid envelope at work.

Turning his head, he noticed a glass of water and two pills sitting on the bedside table, and was instantly grateful to whoever had placed them there.

Using more muscles than he thought were necessary, Tony slowly manoeuvred himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, downing the pills and the water in a single go. He paused for a few minutes for the simple reason that he _could_ , before deciding that a shower was definitely in order. He hadn't had the time – or the energy – for one since he'd been released from the hospital. The sweat left over from his overheated wake-up was slowly drying, leaving a prickling sensation where none should be.

Easing up slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, glad there was no one around to witness his 'old man shuffle' across his bedroom.

Forty minutes under a spray of hot water had him feeling mostly human. It had also given him a chance to ponder the mystery that was Willow. The overheard conversation from earlier that day had clued him to the fact she was Gibbs' niece, but that was all. It did, however, explain a few things. 

Like why Gibbs had been after his blood for coming on to her.

A fresh set of clothes and he was ready to face the rest of his apartment.

Stepping into the living room, he stopped in surprise at the presence of a second person.

“Willow, right?” he asked, trying to put some of his old enthusiasm into the greeting. But he was tired and aching, and finally decided to screw it. His brush with the plague had taken a lot out of him, and he wasn't up to faking he was all better. Not quite yet, anyway.

Though he really shouldn't have bothered; she kept her attention on the laptop in front of her, throwing a distracted “Mm-hmm” in his direction.

There was some more key tapping, and Tony decided to see if his stomach was up to eating anything more solid than jello.

“There's some soup in the fridge – just heat it up in the microwave,” she called out as he shuffled into the kitchen. Deciding he just wasn't up to scavenging through the kitchen on his own, Tony opened the fridge and was happy to see that all he had to do was put the dish in the microwave and hit start.

It was the little things that really mattered – like the soup already in the bowl.

Less than a minute later, he slumped down onto one of the kitchen stools, suddenly realizing he'd overdone it somewhere along the way and now his legs could barely hold him.

Hearing the microwave ding, he realized that he would have to come up with some way to bring the soup to him, without moving from where he was. He was about to give up on using the Force to transport it over, when a voice said “I'll get it.”

Willow had the soup in front of him on the counter, spoon and glass of water appearing at the same time, all before he realized she had entered the kitchen.

Ok. So he wasn't up to 100% yet. Maybe 60-70%.

Watching the spoon shake, he revised it to 40%. Tops.

He looked up to see if Willow had seen this overt sign of weakness, only to find her engrossed in some papers she had apparently brought with her.

The deliberate way she was _not_ looking at him made it obvious that she had seen everything, but was perfectly capable of pretending ignorance.

That worked just fine for him.

“You know, you don't have to spend every minute with me. I _can_ take care of myself,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “You don't need to waste your Monday on me.”

Willow looked at him strangely, and Tony wondered what he'd done wrong.

“It's Wednesday,” she said slowly, like she was talking to someone with considerable brain damage.

He couldn't be brain damaged, right? The plague only affected his lungs and stuff, not his brain. Someone would have said something! Right?

“You've been asleep for almost two days,” she added, and he didn't feel so stupid, because how could he know he'd slept for two days. He'd been asleep!

But, still, “Two days? Really?”

“Uh huh,” she said with a solemn shake of her head. “I called Dr Mallard, but he said that was normal.”

“Huh.”

“And Uncle Jethro fixed it with work. I can work from here the whole week,” she said, turning back to her papers with a little smile on her face.

“Huh,” he said again, returning to his overly delicious soup, thinking it over as he tried not to smile.

Gibbs did care.


	32. Girls Day Out

“We need to get you some knockout clothes,” said Kate, pointing her spoon at Willow. Kate had a serious expression on her face, but Willow knew from experience that facial expressions meant almost nothing. Familiarity with the NCIS agent had taught her that Kate was amused and gleeful, and that Willow was about to be talked into something she didn't want to do.

“Totally!” came agreement from Abby, and Willow resigned herself to an afternoon of shopping.

Willow had been invited to a Girls' Day Out with Kate and Abby, ostensibly to make up for the ruined spa weekend from a few weeks ago. She'd been hesitant at first, her mind filling with remembered images of boy talk and shopping with Buffy – and sometimes Cordelia or Anya – where she'd be badgered into trying on clothes Buffy thought would look perfect on her, but were more Buffy's style than Willow's.

“I don't know,” she said hesitantly, trying to find some way out of it though knowing she was doomed.

She didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere between the ice cream sundaes and ogling the waiter's butt, the conversation had drifted to clothes. Kate had admitted that she liked the NCIS dress code more than the Secret Service one, which Abby had scoffed at.

“Of course you do, you get to wear actual colour and non-shape-hiding clothes!”

The next thing Willow knew, they were talking about Willow's wardrobe. That's when she made her first – and biggest – mistake. She'd admitted that the clothes she wore for work were the first one's she'd bought in years, and that everything else she had felt to 'young' for her. This summer had changed her, giving her more confidence in herself as she made friends in Washington. There was no Buffy or Xander around to be a buffer between her and the rest of the world. She had to do it all on her own, and once she realized that the meek, shy nerd from high school was unknown out here, things seemed to go easier. There were no preconceived ideas about her from people who had known her her entire life.

There was a type of freedom in that, which Willow enjoyed once she realized it. She was becoming a new!Willow, and liked it.

But that didn't mean new!Willow was excited about going shopping with these two women. Previous experience in Sunnydale had had a lasting impression.

“So, I have a question,” Willow put in desperately, pointedly changing the subject before it could go any further. By the look passed between Kate and Abby, the shopping trip had only been reinforced. “It's about Agent McGee.”

That got their attention in a way she wasn't sure she liked.

“What about McGee?” asked Kate slowly, like she was approaching a ticking time bomb.

“Is he seeing anyone? Like romantically?” she asked, only realizing at their wide eyes what it sounded like. “Not for me! Really, not me – cause I'm totally not his type. I just...have a friend – a friend who wants to know.”

Right. That didn't sound fake at all she thought, mentally slapping her forehead.

“Why? And who is this 'friend'?” asked Abby, a dangerous undercurrent in her voice. Willow knew that Abby was friends with McGee, but that didn't explain the level of protectiveness in the lab tech.

“Just...someone at work.”

“Work?” asked Kate, eyebrow raising slightly.

“Well, he sees him around and since I talk to you guys all the time, he hoped I could find out if-”

“Wait, 'he'?” said Kate, her spoon dropping with a clang into the bowl of melting ice cream.

“Ye-es,” said Willow, drawing the word out in confusion. She hadn't thought that either of them would have a problem with it, seeing as they worked with McGee on a regular basis.

“What's this 'he' thing? McGee doesn't go for guys,” said Abby, her face wrinkled in confusion.

“Are you sure?” Willow asked, “Because that's not what I heard.”

“What have you heard?” asked Kate curiously, tilting her head.

“That Agent McGee is gay,” said Willow slowly, uncertain whether she should continue. “Is it suppose to be a secret, because it's all over the building.”

“Where did you hear this?” asked Abby, still looking confused.

“Several places,” replied Willow, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “It's from a very reliable source,” she added defensively.

“From _who_?” asked Kate, disbelief colouring her voice. 

“Agent DiNozzo,” Willow said uneasily, because Kate and Abby were acting weird. They weren't acting like 'oh-my-god-I-didn't-know-this-explains-so-much', but more 'where-the-hell-did-this-bizarre-idea-come-from'. That got Willow thinking furiously, tracing the spider web that was the gossip pipeline at NCIS until she figured out the source.

“He told Lany Allen down in Payroll,” she said in an 'a-ha!' voice, everything coming together. Because you didn't tell Lany Allen anything unless you wanted every person in NCIS to know inside an hour.

“Oh my God! This explains that weird conversation with Palmer last week!” said Abby, throwing her head back and laughing.

“So, it's not true?” Willow asked tentatively, licking the last of the chocolate sauce off her own spoon.

“Not even,” said Abby, the smug tone of voice and slight smile conveying her absolute certainty of that fact.

Interesting, thought Willow.

“Tony is going to be in so much trouble when McGee finds out,” added Kate, a smile of glee lighting her face as she scoped more ice cream out of her dish.

Willow thanked every god and goddess she'd ever heard of that she wasn't on Kate's hit list.

Though, now she had to tell Nathan that his desperate crush on the field agent was going to forever remain unrequited.


	33. The Rumour Mill Grinds to a Halt

The NCIS gossip grapevine was always a good source of amusement, tales ranging from the odd to the obscure to the unbelievable.

But gossip and wild rumours had never circulated with even half the speed of the latest 'news'.

One of the teams had been shot at.

Someone had taken a shot at Gibbs.

Someone had taken a shot at Gibbs, and the shooter's body would never be found.

A roof had exploded.

A car had exploded.

A car had been shot at.

A missile had exploded.

A missile had exploded on a roof.

Willow heard all these, and disregarded them just as quickly. These were the normal types of stories that circulated whenever a team came under fire.

However, there was a tension flowing through the building that was only growing with each frown on Director Morrow's face, with each person who ran to or from MTAC, and with each passing minute with no word from on high.

Willow was sitting in the lunch room, killing some time with some of the other interns and support staff, when she heard it. The one rumour that sounded horrifyingly true enough to be the real thing.

Agent Todd had been killed in the line of duty.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who thought the same way, if the sudden silence around her was to be believed. But she prayed to every God and Goddess she knew, demon or otherwise, for it not to be true.

She knew being an NCIS agent was dangerous – the incident a few weeks ago with DiNozzo and the plague were proof enough of that – but never had it hit home so much. Every time any of them went out the door, it could be their last.

That splash of reality terrified Willow more than she cared to admit. To lose her uncle or any of her new friends, just when she'd gotten to know them.....

It could have been minutes or hours later, but the subdued whispers around her became silent again.

Looking towards the door, she saw her uncle, saw the look on his face, and knew.

Kate was dead.


	34. Tears

She didn't care that people were watching.

She didn't care that people were bound to talk.

She didn't even care that she was breaking her uncle's unspoken rule of PDAs at the office.

All she cared about was that Kate was dead.

The arms wrapped around her tightened as she tried to burrow further into her uncle's shoulder, wishing that he really could return her world to right.

“I'll find him,” he whispered into her hair as a watery sob escaped her throat. “I'll find him and make him pay for daring to take her away.”

Willow didn't have the energy to try and figure out why that comforted her so much. It shouldn't, but it did.

Because she knew he wouldn't rest until he succeeded.


	35. Rally the Troops

The door opened and closed silently, though that was more a sign of the quality of the hotel than any consideration on his part. Ignoring the light switch that he knew from experience was two inches to the right of the door frame at shoulder height, Xander shuffled forward in the dark until he was relatively sure he was in the vicinity of the bed. He paused slightly to determine if he should change from his sweaty clothing – and maybe a shower – but finally decided that rest was what he needed.

Xander stoically held in his manly groan of exhaustion as he fell forward onto the bed he was fairly confident was there, but couldn’t contain the sound the instant his weight was absorbed by the mattress.

These sixteen hour days were going to kill him before the summer was over. He’d originally taken the construction job in San Francisco for the money, as the company was paying extraordinarily well – plus room and board at this swanky hotel. Xander didn’t have the financial freedom to turn down the ridiculous bonus. And the opportunity to be a crew chief – however little that meant in the grand scheme of things – was too much to pass up. 

It also gave him an excuse to be anywhere but Sunnydale for several months. That really shouldn’t have been a selling point, but oddly enough it was.

It turned out that even if he had stuck around the ‘Dale, he wouldn’t have had a more improved social life than what he had going now. Which was nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nien.

Xander managed to find the energy to flop over onto his back, but decided removing his boots required too much effort.

Just as he was drifting off into a well-deserved sleep, the hotel room phone rang. At times like this he wished he had a cell phone that could be turned off. 

He tried to make it blow up solely with the power of his mind, but that worked about as well as it ever did. Meaning not at all.

He would have just let the answering service get it, but nobody called him here except Anya, and she wouldn’t call at …11:53 pm. Through a combination of shuffling and crawling, Xander managed to make it to the phone before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” he asked tiredly, letting his head sink into the pillow.

“Xan-Xander?”

“Willow?” Xander was suddenly fully awake. Willow didn’t call him at midnight unless it was important; important enough for her to be awake at 3am in DC. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, and Xander could tell it was an automatic response. 

_“Sniff.”_

“What happened, Willow?” he asked her gently, because Willow didn’t cry for little things. She only cried to him when something bad happened that made her call him at three in the morning.

“It’s Kate. She’s….she’s-“ Xander really didn’t want her to finish that sentence, as he already had an idea.

“Willow….” he said gently, trying to break into the sobbing coming in over the line.

“She’s dead, Xander. Kate’s dead,” she said through the tears he knew were streaming down her face. He’d consoled Willow through many sobbing fits in high school, and knew the signs well. He only wished he could be there to wrap his arms around her shaking body like he always did, and cursed the fact that he was on the other side of the country.

“What happened?” he asked again, more gently this time. He sat up slowly, any and all exhaustion having left him.

“Sniper,” was all she said, and to him, it was enough. Memories and thoughts from his days as Army Guy came flooding back, knowledge of trajectories, wind speeds and ranges having never left.

“Did they catch him?” he asked, feeling almost at a loss. He was use to dealing with innocent people being caught by things they didn’t believe in, too stupid to open their eyes and see what was around them. But he knew from Willow that Kate hadn’t been a naïve bystander. She was a trained government agent who knew well the dangers she was walking into every day, but did it because she believed in protecting those who either couldn’t or wouldn’t protect themselves.

And now she was dead. Xander had never met the woman, had only ever heard about her through Willow, but he felt a loss at her death. A fallen comrade, who had died in the line of duty.

That was something he didn’t need Army Guy’s memories to feel, either.

“Uncle Jethro’s tearing the town apart looking for him,” she said with a certain degree of satisfaction. Again, this was another person Xander had only ever heard of through Willow. But from what little he’d said, Xander didn’t have any doubt that her uncle wouldn’t rest until he caught the person who had killed a member of his team.

Just like Buffy wouldn’t rest until she killed any demon or vampire that happen to kill one of her friends.

“So you know who it is,” Xander stated, in some ways glad that it wasn’t a random shooting. To be taken out by some off-the-street psycho with a sniper rifle was like the Slayer being killed by a newly risen, baby vampire.

“Yeah. Everybody at NCIS is convinced it’s this one guy, but the Director and everybody _not_ NCIS isn’t,” Willow said, sounding a little more calm as she talked.

“So what’s your uncle going to do?” he asked, though if the stories Willow had been telling him had been right….

“Prove it’s him and kill him.”

Yeah, that sounded about right. Xander may not know all the facts, but he trusted Willow to not want this guy dead for simply killing one of her friends. 

“Is that what you want?” he asked, because he had to be sure she wasn’t just wanting revenge.

“He’s a bad guy, Xan,” she told him quietly, the tears finally leaving her voice. “He’s killed people before and will again. He shot Uncle Jethro once, and he took some shots into Abby’s lab a little while ago.”

“Is she okay?” he asked, wondering idly how living in DC was any less dangerous than Sunnydale.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Uncle Jethro thinks this guy's going after the women in his life,” Xander could hear the tiny tremble in her voice, and wished with everything he had that she was back in Sunnydale, safe from the monsters, be they demon or human.

“So this guy could come after you, next?” he asked loudly, because this was not in any way being ‘fine’.

“Uncle Jethro thinks so. He’s stuck one of his agents on me, and told me not to leave the building. Not like I wanted to,” she added the last bit in quietly. Xander understood that last part, because she’d been the same way after Jessi died. They’d both spent so much time together trying desperately _not_ to think about it. Any and all distractions were welcome.

“So he’s taking care of you,” Xander phrased it as more a question, but still wanted to clarify. If the man wasn’t taking care of his Willow, uncle or no, Xander would hurt him. Or get Buffy to do it for him.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Willow asked, and Xander felt his lips quirk at the incredulousness of her answer. She hadn’t thought for a minute that her uncle wouldn’t keep her safe. It was the same tone she used whenever someone had asked why she was friends with Xander in the first place. The tone she’d used then was the same one she used now, filled with ‘are you sure you weren’t dropped on your head as a child?’. 

It was the only thing that had ever set Cordelia back on her heels. Still a gleeful memory to this day.

“Just making sure, Willow-mine,” he said playfully, delighted to hear a tiny giggle over the phone line.

“Do you need me to come to DC?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Xander, you don’t need to fly across the country-“

“I’ll rephrase,” he interrupted. “Do you _want_ me to come to DC?”

Silence again.

“No, I’ve got Uncle Jethro and Abby and Ducky – even Agents McGee and DiNozzo,” she finally said, her tone going soft a wobbly again. “I’ll be fine.”

They talked for a few more minutes before hanging up, and Xander found that any and all desire for sleep had left him.

He sat on the over-made bed for awhile, processing everything he’d learned before making a decision. Picking up the phone again, he called down to the front desk.

“I need a flight to DC as soon as possible. There’s been a death in the family.”

He’d accrued some time off, and decided that now was the best time to employ them.

He was going to DC.


	36. The Lab and the Lab Tech

“Abby?”

Willow took a cautious step into the lab area, wondering what she would find. Stories had been floating around all day about how various people were dealing with Kate's death, and Abby had been at the top of everyone's lists.

Having someone shooting at you didn't help the situation.

Willow knew she was probably right up there with Abby in the 'taking it badly' category, but she still wasn't up to her uncle's level of angst. She'd never seen him act like this before, and it had her slightly scared. He was so much more intense and dark than she was use to, and Willow wasn't sure how to deal with that; how to deal with him.

“Hey, Willow,” called out Abby, prompting Willow to venture further into the lab. Her shadow moved with, sticking as close to the threshold as he could manage. Willow didn't even bother rolling her eyes any more, because Agent Balboa seemed immune. He'd been tasked with keeping an eye on her, and that's exactly what he would do until Uncle Jethro told him he could stop.

Willow was still slightly amazed at how NCIS was dealing with the current situation. The new director was trying to push the investigation away from Ari, much to the frustration of many of the field agents. So they were doing their best to track down other leads for other potential suspects, running interference with the director, leaving her uncle to do what he did best – catch the bad guy. Willow wondered if the new director realized what was going on, but doubted it. From what Willow had seen and heard, Director Shepard was too busy trying to prove herself to others outside the agency, that she was already starting to alienate the people _inside_ NCIS.

Willow's personal thoughts were that if Director Shepard had started off her term by defending and supporting her people instead of telling them they were wrong, she would find her future much less bumpy.

But Willow was just a lowly summer intern, the lowest rung on the ladder, and her opinions didn't matter at all.

“What are you doing?” Willow asked, turning to see Abby seated at her desk.

“Just putting my report together,” said Abby, keeping her back to Willow. 

Willow pulled over the closest rolling chair and sat down, glad that Agent Balboa had enough sense to fall back to the lab entrance. The illusion of privacy was almost as good as the real thing right now.

“No you're not,” countered Willow, glancing at the blank screen.

“I just-”

Willow rolled her chair closer, putting a hand on Abby's shoulder. She could feel the slight trembling beneath her hand, and squeezed in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Dealing with other people's grief was never easy for Willow, as she never knew what to say to make them feel better. One thing she'd picked up from the Buffy/Angel trauma was that sometimes keeping quiet was the best way to help someone else.

Silence filled the lab.

“I got this for Kate – for her birthday,” Abby said at last, turning slightly so Willow could see the black and silver chain in her hands. “I was going to drag her out to one of my favourite clubs – show her how to party.”

“She would have loved it,” Willow said quietly, knowing it was true. Despite what she may have said, Kate was always up for trying something new, and she could never resist Abby when Abby put her mind to something.

Willow let the silence return for a time, dutifully ignoring the shimmering of tears in Abby's eyes.

“She was going to teach me how to fight,” Willow said unexpectedly. She hadn't even told her uncle about Kate's offer, or that she was seriously considering taking her up on it. “She said that every woman should know how to 'kick them in the balls and run for help'.”

Willow felt her own fragile hold on her emotions slip and her vision began to blur. No one had taken the time to teach her to defend herself before, which taken in context with her life in Sunnydale, seemed like a horrible oversight. The number of times when it would have been beneficial to know how to get away from attackers always made Willow shake her head in bafflement. Kate had only known her a few months, but she'd apparently decided that Willow should know how to defend herself, or at least get away from an attacker to get help. 

It wasn't often that she was put in the position where she had to defend herself, usually knowing that Buffy and the others would be out looking for her if she went missing. But the rest of the world didn't work like Sunnydale. People weren't going to try and kidnap her for some plot involving the Slayer. In the rest of the world, there were people – many people, she was learning – who grabbed others just so they could hurt them. 

A lot of them weren't found until it was too late. 

Kate had offered her a chance to take control of her safety – her life – and Willow had been surprised by how eager she was to learn.

“Kate's a great teacher,” said Abby, a genuine smile curving her black lips, but only for a second. “ _Was_ a great teacher.”

“We'll find him,” Willow told her, surprised at the conviction in her voice. “Uncle Jethro will find him.”

“I don't doubt it,” added Abby, finally meeting Willow's eyes. Willow knew her own emotions were reflected back in Abby's eyes – the faith that Gibbs would find Ari and bring him to justice.

Before Willow could try and say anything more, her little used cell phone rang, startling her and Abby by its sudden shrillness.

She was surprised to hear Xander's voice on the other end of the line, as she figure he'd still be sleeping off her late night call from the night/morning before. What he said next surprised her even more.

“What do you mean 'you're at the airport'?”


	37. Welcome to NCIS

Xander stepped away from the departing cab with not a small amount of trepidation. Looking up at the ordinary structure that was the NCIS headquarters, Xander wondered if his nervousness was authority related, or meeting-Willow's-family related.

Hefting his solitary duffle bag over one shoulder, Xander told himself to man-up and go meet his best friend. Said best friend had been forbidden to come meet him at the airport. With a sniper possibly out there trying to kill her, Xander was not the least bit surprised.

Stepping inside the main doors, Xander looked at the guard station and metal detectors with wary eyes, silently glad that he hadn’t brought anything even mildly threatening with him. These guys were probably more serious about security than the TSA goons at the airport.

Xander wondered exactly how he was going to get in touch with Willow, as it was only a matter of time before the security guards started to eyeball him openly.

He didn’t have to wonder long, when he was hit by a red headed octopus squeaking his name.

“Hey, Wills,” he said as he dropped his duffle to wrap his arms around her. He’d really missed her this summer.

“Xander. You didn’t have to come,” she told him, her face pressed into his shoulder. 

“Yes, I did,” he murmured into her hair. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” Even muffled by his shirt, Xander could hear the lie.

“Liar.”

A polite cough off to the side pulled Xander’s attention away from Willow, and he finally took notice of the young-ish man waiting a short distance away. Despite the somewhat casual dress, the gun and badge proclaimed his status as an NCIS agent.

“This your bodyguard, Willow?” asked Xander.

“This is Agent Ray Balboa. Ray, this is Xander,” she introduced, moving her head just enough to be heard clearly. Her arms were still wrapped around him, but Xander wasn’t complaining.

“We should probably move this _out_ of the NCIS lobby,” Xander suggested, nudging her with his body.

“Right. Yes,” agreed Willow, pulling back and to the side. Xander felt the death grip she had on his shirt at the back, refusing to let go even for a moment, and his heart began to ache. Willow had been like this those first few days after Jessie had died.

“Come on, Wills,” he announced, injecting as much lightness into his voice as he could. “Time you introduced me to all your new friends.”

Xander smiled as he managed to coax a small smile from her.

It was small, but it was a start.


	38. Lilies in Indiana

_Friend and Protector_

Willow looked at the words carved into the reddish marble, waiting for the last of the stragglers to head towards the cars. The grave had been dug, the casket lowered, and finally, Kate was laid to rest in the earth.

When everybody but Xander and Uncle Jethro were gone, Willow slowly approached the polished rock on legs that wobbled. She knelt down in front of the headstone, careful to avoid the freshly filled grave that was Kate’s final resting place. 

She tried not to think about the fact that her friend was nothing more than flesh and bone in a box underground, but it was harder to push those thoughts away when she was kneeling next to a mound of overturned earth. Another wave of grief washed itself over her, but Willow didn’t have any tears left to cry. She felt empty, used up, and desperately wished that she could erase the last few days. Then Kate would be alive and there wouldn’t be a new hole in her heart.

Willow didn’t say anything as she pulled a white lily from her purse, pushing it stem first into the soft ground. Gently laying one finger on the very edge of one petal, Willow closed her eyes and let some of her natural magic flow through her. Her mind and thoughts gave the spell a purpose and direction, and that was all the magic needed.

The lily suddenly grew taller and healthier, sprouting another two flowers before finally stopping as it reached just passed the top of the headstone. The flowers – plant now, really – seemed to lean against the marble rock, one of the white petals caressing the ‘T’ in Todd.

“Good bye, Kate. I’ll miss you,” Willow whispered.

Standing up, she was unprepared for the slight tilting of her world, but Xander was there to catch her before she fell. Her uncle was on her other side, offering his silent support, and Willow had never been more grateful for his presence.

“Neat trick,” commented her uncle, his voice slightly strained. Even after all this time, seeing her use magic still put him off kilter. “Will it last long?”

“The flowers will still bloom as long as someone remembers her,” said Willow. She kept to herself that it would also bloom year round, despite the weather.

Kate’s memory would live on.

“I think it’s time for some lunch,” said Gibbs. Willow ignored the fact that it was currently mid-afternoon, because they both knew she hadn’t been eating these past few days. Neither had he, really.

“Ok,” she agreed, turning to move back to the car.

Looking up, Willow caught a glimpse of a dark haired figure standing further down the row. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Kate standing over a hundred feet away, telling herself that Kate was dead and it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Just because the person looked like Kate and … _smiled_ like Kate – it didn’t make her Kate.

Still, Willow felt herself smile back briefly, a heavy weight lifting off her chest. Then she blinked, and the figure was gone.

_Goodbye, Kate._


End file.
